


Bog Unicorn

by Umerue



Series: Mythal's quest [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Dalish, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Not Beta Read, Romance, Secrets, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umerue/pseuds/Umerue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bog Unicorn, the undead horse which has a sword stuck inside it's head, is making life a living hell to Lavellan's companions. The horse is dead carcass inhabited by Spirit of Purity, and it's determined to protect Lavellan from all improper influences, including Cassandra's smutty novels or Cullen's wandering thoughts. Josephine hates it, because it's impossible to promote a good public image when their glorious leader is a Dalish mage riding on a undead horse. </p><p>Inner Circle of Inquisition launches a nefarious plot to find Inquisitor a love affair, so they would get rid of Boggy. Solas disapproves. Greatly. Because he, of course, does not have a problem with Bog Unicorn. When it tried to stomp him, it was a pure accident. Those happen during a battle. Really.</p><p>A story of friendship turning into love, gods lurking in the Fade and the secrets of elves. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Boggy cabal

**Author's Note:**

> The story follows loosely the game, so it will include spoilers. I take the bits and pieces I like, and which serve the story purposes so you will notice few twists from the canon.

"Where is Inquisitor?", Varric yelled, aiming at the Rage Demon. "What's keeping her so long?"  
"Solas! If she is with you at the back lines, tell her to disrupt the rift already! We are losing this fight!", Cassandra shouted, lifting her shield to avert a burst of flame.  
"Boss, get your ass here fast!", Iron Bull bellowed, grunting as Shade raked it's nails through his armor. The situation was getting desperate, and then they saw her.

 

Inquisitor Lavellan was on the top of opposite hill, sitting on a h-- Varric blinked his eyes - sitting on a dead horse. It had a sword stuck inside it's head and there was no sight of reins or saddle. Lavellan had a bright, blinding smile on her face.  
"Ar tu na'lin emma mi", she shouted at demons, brandishing her staff. "Now, Boggy!"  
Varric stared how their illustrious leader charged in the fray, throwing magic left and right. The horrible undead horse used the sword inside it's head to attack demons, making short work of them. Even the demons looked somewhat confused at the sight. It took a few moments before Varric remembered he was supposed to participate in the fight. He loaded Bianca again, wondering why he never could have any normal friends.  


"You are the most beautiful unicorn I've ever seen.", Inquisitor Lavellan cooed, patting the horse's mane. "Who is my little terror? The bravest of horses ever lived?"  
"It doesn't live, boss.", Iron Bull said. "And it is not an unicorn."  
The horse flashed teeth at Bull, trying to nip him.  
"You hurt his feelings, Bull.", Lavellan said. "Don't mind him, Boggy. You are as ferocious as the wolves who served Emerald Knights of old."  
"What is this creature?", Solas came carefully closer.  
"He is a Bog Unicorn.", Lavellan announced. "I found him when a Greater Terror jumped on me and threw me in the bush. Boggy saved my life. He is a true unicorn, the protector of maidens."  
The horse looked absolutely smug.  
"Are you going to keep it?", Cassandra asked warily.  
"Of course.", Lavellan replied, jumping down from the horse's back. "How could I send away someone who saved me in my hour of need? Boggy wishes to stay."  
The undead horse made a satisfied noise and tried to push it's muzzle against Lavellan's shoulder.  
"How do you know he wishes to stay?", Solas asked curiously.  
"Don't you hear it?", Lavellan looked surprised. "I thought you would hear him talking. It's like listening spirits in the Fade."  
Varric, Cassandra and Iron Bull exchanged glances. Oh, no.

 

So Bog Unicorn stayed. Sadly, it didn't make any friends among the Inquisition Inner Circle. It had a mean and petty nature, with inclination to scare people whenever possible. When Varric got out from tent at night to follow the call of nature, Bog Unicorn sneaked behind him and neighed at the worst moment, making Varric accidentally piss on his pants. It tried to bite Iron Bull whenever Lavellan wasn't looking, and chewed the tent ropes when Iron Bull was coupling with Dorian. Their secret relationship was not secret after that. Blackwall had to move out from the stables because he claimed the horse's undead eyes stared at him whenever he tried to sleep. The poor Warden became twitchy and tired, with black circles around his eyes. Cassandra avoided the horse at all costs. Josephine was going mad trying to explain visiting dignitaries that no, Inquisitor Lavellan was not an evil mage even though she rode undead horse with sword stuck inside it's head. 

The problem was that Bog Unicorn loved Lavellan ferociously and wildly. Every night they camped, the horrible horse put it's head on Lavellan's lap (carefully not to stab her with sword) and fell asleep with blissful look on it's muzzle. It ruined the late night talks around the campfire and most of their appetites. Even Solas, who was usually unfazed by anything, seemed slightly bothered by Boggy.

 

After one particularly trying mission where Boggy had eaten half of Cassandra's copy of Swords and Shields, pushed Varric on the mud puddle when he tried to pee (Varric was actually considering getting a potty to avoid any late night trips out from tent) and stolen the sweet cakes Sera had 'acquired' from kitchens, the Inner Circle had enough. Varric called an emergency meeting at the Skyhold tavern.

"Blackwall, you did what I asked?", Varric started when everyone had gathered around the table.  
"Yes. I said that Boggy looked sad and it probably needed exercise. She rode out from the gates maybe half an hour ago.", Blackwall replied.  
"I don't like it when she goes out alone.", Cullen said, disapprovingly.  
"All of the soldiers and horses are afraid of Bog Unicorn.", Cassandra pointed out. "Even demons fear it. I've seen it take out a Red Templar Horror without help."  
"I get your point.", Cullen gave in. "I just don't get why the horse seems to hate me especially. I haven't even been on missions with you, but every time I see it, it tries to stab me."  
"Her bright smile and the freckles on her cheekbones, the soft curve of her breast. Wondering how she would feel under my hands, bending her over the war table, touching..", Cole muttered.  
Cullen blushed violently red and Josephine started to giggle behind her hand.  
"Enough, Cole.", Solas said, unusually sharp edge on his voice. "I do not wish to hear any more of commander's thoughts. I have studied extensively the Bog Unicorn, and the situation is clear. The creature is a spirit, inhabiting the body of dead horse for his own free will. It simply acts according to it's nature."  
"Isn't it a demon, considering the way it acts?", Cassandra asked suspiciously.  
"No. It is a Spirit of Purity.", Solas said, crossing his arms over his chest.  
"It would make sense.", Dorian mused. "In Tevinter, we have stories of unicorns following virgins around. The solution to get rid of Boggy is really simple. She gets laid, and Boggy leaves!"  
"You are despicable.", Solas snapped, his eyes flashing. "It is not the Bog Unicorn which is the problem! If you just stopped lusting after Lavellan, or trying to corrupt her with horrible romance novels like Cassandra and Varric do, the horse would leave you alone. _I_ do not have a problem with it."  
"Oh, really, Chuckles?", Varric asked. "Why I recall seeing Boggy trying to stomp on your foot?"  
"It was in the last battle. Accidents happen.", Solas snapped and stood up. His eyes were bright with anger. "I warn you. Leave the Inquisitor alone. If you insist on carrying out some nefarious plan, the Bog Unicorn is least of your worries. Elvhen gods do not look kindly upon shemlen taking what is not for humans to have."  


The rest of the companions sat in silence until they heard the tavern door bang shut.  
"He is quite scary when he gets mad.", Sera offered. "One could almost think that he could summon the wrath of some long-dead elfy god. Mages."  
"He protests too much.", Dorian said, twirling his mustache. "And I saw Boggy trying to stomp on his foot, too."  
"All right. So, we can either to live with Boggy or find Inquisitor a boyfriend, so Boggy will leave. Who favors the first option?", Varric asked.  
No hands were raised.  
"And the second option, getting rid of Boggy?"  
"That horse ruins all my attempts to create positive image of Inquisition.", Josephine said, raising her hand.  
"I vote yes. It bit me on the ass.", Iron Bull announced. "Besides, sex isn't such a big deal. Might be good for her."  
The vote was unanimous against Bog Unicorn.

"It is decided, then.", Josephine sighed. "There are many advantages to be had in pursuing a relationship. For the sake of Inquisition, I will ask Lavellan about her preferences and introduce her to few suitable options. She needs to learn how to dance for Halamshiral, anyway."


	2. Josephine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine tries to introduce Lavellan to Orlesian lord to get rid of Boggy.

"My lady Inquisitor.", Josephine said, "May I introduce you to lord Arvid Trevelyan. He is the younger son of influential noble house in Orlais. His family has been devout supporter of Chantry and Templars for generations."  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, lady Inquisitor.", lord Arvid said, reaching for Inquisitor and kissing the back of her hand. "I have heard many tales of you, but none of them described accurately how beautiful you are."  
Lavellan snatched her hand back and hid both of them behind her back, looking rather uncomfortable.  
"Lord Trevelyan's father, Count Trevelyan, is having diplomatic negotiations with me, and I wished you could show Skyhold for lord Trevelyan while we talk.", Josephine explained.  
"I look forward to knowing you better, my lady Inquisitor.", lord Trevelyan flashed a smile which made Josephine's knees weak.  
"Wonderful. Now that the introductions have been made, I will leave you to it.", Josephine smiled and hurried away to give them little privacy.  
It should never been said that she did not do favors to her friends. Why, a noble young man, suave and handsome lord who knows his way around court _and_ ladies. Boggy would be gone before the week's end.

Lavellan was left alone with shemlen lord who kept staring at her with unnerving way. Dread Wolf take Josephine for leaving her with him! She had no idea what she should say, and evidently she was supposed to talk about something? Judging by man's looks, he was probably not interested in ancient elven history, magic or any of Lavellan's favorite topics.  
"What brings you to Skyhold, lord Trevelyan? What are your interests?", she asked.  
"Although it's uncouth to brag, I can safely say that I'm the best horseman in eastern Orlais. I'm unbeaten on race track."  
"Really?", Lavellan asked, an idea blooming in his mind. "Would you be interested in little competition?"  
"With you, my lady?", Trevelyan gave her a lingering look which made Lavellan squirm.  
"Yes. Master Dennet could build us a race course, and the winner may beg a boon from loser.", Lavellan suggested. Nobles did that, at least in Swords and Shields. Cassandra was always going on about it, although Lavellan had to admit that she never had listened long enough to find out what exactly the boon-thing was.  
"Challenge accepted, lady Inquisitor. I will be most pleased to get to know you better.", lord Trevelyan said in low voice. He looked rather pleased. Evidently Lavellan had a good grasp on how to deal with visiting dignitaries. Josephine would be pleased. Maybe she would even order those frilly Orlesian cakes Solas liked so much, and Lavellan could confiscate some for him. They would sit together on couch, nibbling the cakes and Solas would tell her stories of his exploits in Fade. Lavellan could drown in the sound of his voice, his quiet words which were for her alone, the wonders of Fade blooming in her mind like flowers..

"Look, Varric.", Josephine whispered in the other side of the room, nodding towards Lavellan. "She looks positively smitten. I said I would fix this."  
"I admit that, but I'm not going to celebrate before Boggy is gone.", Varric said.  
Exchanging a few words, Lavellan left while lord Trevelyan walked across the room to meet Josephine.  
"Oh, lady Inquisitor is everything you told me and more! Such innocence, accompanied by subtle invitation! I feel like a hunter chasing a white halla across the plains!"

\--

"Solas?", Lavellan asked, pushing the door open to rotunda. "Do you have a moment? I have a foolish question."  
"Questions are rarely foolish, da'len.", Solas looked up from the book he had been reading.  
"This is rather awkward, but... Did you ever listen Cassandra's rant about Swords and Shields?"  
"Too many times to count. Do not tell me you have become fan of the series, as well?"  
"No!", Lavellan shook her head. "I just wanted to know what Orlesian nobles mean with the talk about begging a boon from a lady. I don't want to appear as a fool."  
Solas closed his eyes for a second. Yes, he had deliberately encouraged Lavellan to see him as hahren, but sometimes he regretted it heartily. This was one of those moments.  
"It is usually a personal belonging or public gesture, like a kiss, declaring man's claim over a woman's favors."  
"Oh.", Lavellan's face twisted into grimace, like she had bitten a lemon. "No wonder why he looked so pleased."  
Of course she hadn't known, hadn't understood. How could she, after mere months in shemlen world? Courting among elves was a slow and serious, built on thousand shared moments before even first kiss. The bonding of souls was the important part, the joining of bodies merely a pleasant side effect. It was the pace of living which had sustained them to live forever, and in Dalish clans, some of their Keepers were deliberately staying away from humans to lengthen their life spans. As a strong mage of ancient bloodline, carrying a surname which was also the name of her clan, Lavellan had been even more guarded and sheltered than most. Growing into one's magic took time long beyond adulthood, it took years of devotion and focus, and even the ignorant Dalish understood it, creating taboos which ensured no young hunter would gift a pelt to First of his clan. Those fools who called themselves Inquisitor's friends, had no understanding what they were trying to ruin simply because they could not cope with Bog Unicorn. Solas gritted his teeth together.  
"I didn't mean to anger you, Solas.", Lavellan said, looking worried.  
"You are not the one angering me, da'len.", Solas said, shutting his book with unnecessary force. "I just need some fresh air."  
"I should go and get Boggy. Master Dennet has probably finished the race course by now."  
"Race course?", Solas asked, willing to take any distraction.  
"Yes. That shemlen lord bragged being unbeatable on horse racing, so I challenged him. I don't want his boons, however.", Lavellan wrinkled her nose.  
"Maybe Josephine would enjoy spending the evening with him at the tavern. It is a good place for him to nurse his wounded ego after Boggy beats him", Solas said, the anger dissipating and turning into evil glee. He would slip into stables and have a word with undead horse before the race.  
"I thought if you were still interested, tonight would be a good time to start teaching you how to find ancient dreams of spirits in the Fade.", Solas continued. He enjoyed her company, and it would keep her away from any machinations others had planned.  
"It would be wonderful.", Lavellan turned to look at him, her eyes shining with happiness. Solas found himself answering to her smile.

 

"Chuckles!", Varric greeted Solas when elf arrived at Skyhold gates. People had gathered there to watch the race course between Inquisitor and lord Trevelyan.  
"I thought you had no interest in gambling."  
"You are sorely mistaken in that.", Solas said, a slight smile on his lips. "Five for the Inquisitor."  
"Deal.", Dorian said. "Although you could have used your money to buy decent clothes for once."  
"Bianca could use an upgrade or two, if you are literally going to bet on a dead horse?", Varric asked.  
"I don't mind getting free money.", Solas replied smugly.

"My lady!", the look on lord Trevelyan's face was worth of seeing when Lavellan rode on Boggy to meet him. The dead horse looked even more ferocious than usual, the half-rotten eyes giving lord Trevelyan a look of undying hatred.  
"Is this truly the mount you have chosen for the challenge?"  
"Yes. Bog Unicorn is a noble steed like no other.", Lavellan said, patting on the horse's neck.  
"But surely you understand it's not considered acceptable to use magic in sport?"  
"I haven't cast anything on Boggy. Any mage here can prove it.", Lavellan informed him, feigning hurt. "Surely you do not try to slight my honor by claiming that I would not give you fair competition?"  
"But if you fall, my lady, without saddle and bridle, and the blame is on me?", lord Trevelyan tried get in terms with racing against a clearly dead horse.  
"I don't need any. Or are you worried for your victory, my lord?", Lavellan grinned.  
"Of course not!", Trevelyan replied, trying to collect himself. "You shall see me emerge victorious, and beg a boon from you. A kiss from lady Inquisitor!"  
"We shall see about that.", Lavellan said, nodding to master Dennet.  
"Rules are as follows: you ride the course, and pass between the poles. Competition is for three rounds. After third round, turn to the gates, and whoever gets through the Skyhold gates first, is the winner. Take positions... Three, two, one, go!"

"By Ancestors, I've never seen a dead horse to run like that.", Varric cursed. Boggy was giving it's best against lord Trevelyan's Taslin Strider, gaining lead slowly but surely.  
"Damn, the boss knows how to ride.", Iron Bull shook his horned head. "But the beast is dead, and Trevelyan's animal is much lighter. How much did you wager against us all, Solas? Nearly thirty gold? Losing your life savings on a dead horse doesn't sound very smart."  
"I'm not losing faith yet.", Solas said. "Boggy knows what's on stake."  
"A kiss? Is the beast really that chaste?", Dorian asked.  
"No, you fool! Elvhen glory!", Solas replied, eyes on the riders. "Her fascinating, unique spirit!"  
Behind his back, the companions gave each other a look.  
"It would be good for you to sleep a night or two. For real. Not skipping around the Fade.", Dorian advised. "It's beginning to show."

The riders turned on third round. Boggy was still leading, but it was getting tired, being originally a war horse instead of strider bred for racing like lord Trevelyan's. Trevelyan was gaining, his mouth a thin line as he dug his heels on horse's sides.  
"Vir Assan, lethallan!*", Solas shouted from the walls. Boggy heard him and lunged forwards, cantering through the gates to Skyhold yard just as lord Trevelyan reached the portcullis. Cursing, Iron Bull, Varric and Dorian started to count the money.

"You have won, my lady Inquisitor.", lord Trevelyan said. "With heavy heart, I admit my defeat. Your steed is truly an extraordinary sight."  
"Thank you, my lord.", Lavellan said. "The boon I'm going to ask from you is a private matter." Stepping closer to Orleasian lord, she stood on her toes to whisper something in his ear.  
"Oh, I see.", lord Trevelyan said, an amused smile spreading over his face. "I'm not against such a suggestion, and I assure you, I will serve you in this with my very best ability."  
 --

"So. Does anyone know what she asked for?", Varric questioned the Inner Circle gathered in the tavern.  
"I don't know what she asked, but I happened to see lord Trevelyan slipping into Cassandra's room with a very smutty book in his hand. Even worse than Swords and Shields.", Leliana replied mischievously. "I waited for a moment to see what would happen but she did not throw him out."  
"What a mental picture. Fascinating and terrifying at the same time.", Dorian mused. "But I have to say, Josephine, you are no good at matchmaking. We still have a corpse in the stable, and now it is a famous race horse."  
"I know.", Josephine sighed. "I don't understand what went wrong. I thought he was perfect."  
"For you, but maybe not for her. Have you tried to ask her what she likes?", Leliana asked.

Nobody paid any attention to Cole, who sat in the corner and whispered:  
"Leaving plums for great spiders, the taste of herbs on her lips, hearing his soft breaths next to her. The warmth of his body under shared blankets, looking at the stars and waiting for sleep, feeling the first blossoms of love."

 

*Vir Assan, lethallan = Fly straight and do not waver, friend


	3. Nightingale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan walk in the Fade. Leliana decides to bring out heavy artillery to get rid of Boggy.

"I have been meaning to ask you; how do you get out without alerting others?", Solas asked one night when Lavellan appeared on their agreed meeting place away from the main camp. They were on their way back from Western Approach to Skyhold, currently crossing through the northeastern part of Emerald Graves.  
"How do _you_ get out?", she deflected the question back to him.  
"I have my ways.", Solas said mysteriously.  
"So do I.", Lavellan told him smugly.  
"But you are a mage. Not a hunter.", Solas pressed the issue.  
"So are you.", Lavellan replied. "Evidently being a mage or lacking the skills of hunter is not stopping either of us. Your arguments are usually better than that, Solas. Does it annoy you that for once, you don't know everything?"  
Her voice was playful. She was teasing him, and enjoying it wholeheartedly.  
"A bit, maybe.", Solas admitted. "But I will find out sooner or later."  
"Should I be worried? You can be very single-minded when you are after something.", she noted, crouching to put her hands lightly against the ground. Solas felt the familiar tingle of Veil parting slightly as the trees moved, their branches reaching to form a protective circle around them.  
"Was that a Dalish spell?", he asked curiously. Dalish had not exactly given him time to study their magic during their unfortunate meeting long ago.  
"Keeper magic.", Lavellan said absently. "It is easy here, because forest is old and it remembers our people. The oak on left is planted for elven dead, and the trees will watch over us while we sleep. I smelled a wolf nearby when I came here, and it might be hungry."  
"Smelled a wolf?", Solas asked, raising his eyebrows. "Interesting."  
"Isn't it?", Lavellan said. "Especially since they hunt in packs, but there was only one."  
"I didn't know Dalish had so sharp senses.", Solas said, enjoying their game against his better judgement.   
"There is much you don't know about Dalish, lethallin.", Lavellan announced, sitting down on the ground among the roots of great oak. Putting down her staff, she yawned and took a generous pinch of dried herbs from her belt pouch. The taste in her mouth was familiar by now, but she still marvelled the moment when she would open her eyes in Fade and the dried leaves were fresh again.

  

"I think I've found a common denominator for everything you have taught me so far.", Lavellan said as they walked in the Fade. "Dreaming is much like Keeper's magic. To control the forest, one must reach for the roots and show them what they could be like, what they might have been at one point. It is like creating a dream for them and making them live it. Is it possible, then, to bring features from spirits' dreams back from Fade to manipulate the magical energies in waking world?"  
"Yes!", Solas replied enthusiastically. "That is the main principle of ancient elvhen magic. Everything we had was built by connection to Fade, and understanding of the spirits. In Crestwood, for example, we could have reached through Fade and made the sunken village remember time before it drowned. It would have been hard, because so many perished in flood and their memories were strong, but with enough mages, it could be done."  
"If enough people dreamed the same thing, it could become reality?", Lavellan asked.  
"If they were properly trained, yes. During the old days, we had many Dreamers. I once told you about spells which took centuries to cast.", Solas took her hand, willing the Fade to change, and stepped forwards. He did not like visiting his own memories, but her understanding was to be cherished, strengthened. For him, it was first spark of hope he had seen since he woke up.   
"This was one of the crystal towers of Arlathan, as the spirits of Fade remember it.", Solas said quietly as the scenery changed. "Dreamers slept there, and some of them had perfected themselves to the point where they no longer required sustenance."  
"It's.. unlike anything I have ever seen.", Lavellan's eyes were filled with wonder. "But I read something about dreamers, once."  
"Where?", Solas' curiosity sparked and he let go of the memory, returning them to Fade.  
"Clan Sabrae had a book called "The tome of Slumbering Elders", written by their last Dreamer two generations ago. I had a chance to read parts of it while Keeper Marethari conversed with our Keeper, and it hinted at ancient Dreamers practicing uthenera.", Lavellan said. "I've always repented not invoking _vir sulevanan_ to borrow it . It was a relic filled with priceless knowledge, I wanted to read it, and now it's forever lost because of that idiot Hawke."  
"I didn't take Hawke as a type to destroy books. What happened?"  
Lavellan considered his question for a while, and her looks changed. She appeared to him wearing the Dalish armor like when they had first met, and her face was the mask she wore when she was lady Inquisitor passing judgement from her throne. Or First of her clan, more accurately.  
"The Sabrae died. It could be said that the Blight and the weakness of their leaders destroyed them.", her voice was controlled, calm. "Ten years ago, when the Blight began, two hunters of Clan Sabrae found a mirror from ancient ruins in Brecilian Forest. It was a doorway to another place, but filled with darkspawn taint, and it infected the hunters. Only one of them was found by clan, and she was given to Grey Warden Duncan to save her life. She became Mahariel who ended the Fifth Blight. The clan travelled north, and settled near Kirkwall. But their First, Merril, had kept a tainted fragment of mirror, hoping to reconstruct it. Merril started studying blood magic because a Pride demon told her it was the only way to cleanse the shard. Marethari did not accept it, and sent Merril away with Hawke to live among humans. Merril spent six years trying to reconstruct that mirror, and Marethari feared her success would release the demon. In order to prevent it from happening and unable to control her fears, Keeper took the demon inside herself. It all ended in blood and ruin. Merrill and Hawke killed the Keeper, and every clan is oath sworn to defend their Keeper to last breath."  
Solas grimaced.  
"What happened to eluvian?", he asked. "The mirror, I mean."  
"I don't know. I understood that it was repaired, but she couldn't wake it up like it had been when the hunters first found it.", Lavellan said. "The book I mentioned was given to Hawke as a gift, and when I asked about it at Western Approach, she said she had sold it to some shady dealer in Kirkwall at Black Emporium. She thought it was just worthless junk. A shem mage, indeed."  
"And to add insult to injury, the perishing of Clan Sabrae also endangers our chance to ever find a third homeland.", Lavellan continued, still reining her emotions tightly, keeping her voice purposefully serene although the words were angry. Solas appreciated her iron hold over her feelings, because it protected any spirits which might come to them, and did not lure demons closer. He had been right about her indomitable focus.  
"After Archdemon was killed by Warden Mahariel, King Alistair and Queen Anora granted her a boon. They gave lands of Brecilian Forest to Clan Sabrae to become our new homeland. Marethari thanked them, but took her people to Kirkwall instead of staying to make her claim. She said it was too dangerous to dwell there and now that the Clan Sabrae is dead, Fereldan claims that Brecilian Forest has reverted to crown. Merrill was exiled by Marethari, becoming just another city elf, and Wardens are supposed to give up all ties to their former kin, making Mahariel ineligible. There are no Sabrae left to claim it. Keeper Marethari feared those ruins too much to seize the moment and take what could have been ours, and it is against everything Dalish stand for. Every piece of lore we own, every artifact, even the magic in our veins are collective property of us all, and she had no right to do so. World is full of ancient ruins, old mistakes and things long lost. It only matters what we can build on them.", she finished. "And such was the story of betrayal by fear."  
"Thank you, lethallan.", Solas said. "You gave me much to think about."  
"There is no need to thank me. You gave me a tower of Arlathan; I gave you a story of Dalish at their worst.", Lavellan sighed.   
"If you take the legend away from Arlathan, you might not find it very different.", Solas replied. "People are people everywhere."

 

Solas was still deep in his thoughts when they reached Skyhold late next day. He barely noticed Cole slipping away to feed the spiders, or Blackwall heading straight towards tavern. He did, however, note Lavellan closing herself in the war room with her advisors. Her posture was erect, the look on her face the mask of Inquisitor. She commanded herself as easily as the others around her. First of her clan, indeed. No matter how hard Solas tried, he could not reason _how_ Dalish, as misinformed and bigoted they were, had produced something as unique as the woman who had grasped the leading principle behind elven magic based only the meager bits and pieces of information available to her. He had respected the Inquisitor, appreciated her resolve to help people, even liked her curiosity and intelligence, but last night he had felt his world change. A terrible hope had been born in his heart, and it was too stubborn to be silenced. If she was truly what she seemed to be, there was hope for the People yet.

 

"Sack of mead for our suffering friend.", Varric yelled in the tavern. "How bad was it, Hero?"  
"Two months on the road with Cole, Solas and Inquisitor? If I had a copper piece every time I heard 'veil', 'fade', 'spirit' or something about elves, I would be richest man in whole Thedas. Sorry, I mispronounced it. It's _elvhen_.", Blackwall said sarcastically. "He is teaching her more words."  
"At least you didn't have to take Boggy along. The creature smells bad enough here, and it's always snowing. Imagine a rotten horse in desert temperature?"   
"Haven't you gotten rid of it yet?"  
"No.", Varric said, shaking his head. "Boggy has been even worse than usually, since it didn't have to pretend to be nice to lady Inquisitor. But Nightingale promised she is going to fix it. If she can't, nobody can."

 

"While Cullen starts preparations to attack on Adamant Fortress, there is someone I'd like you to meet, Inquisitor.", Leliana said, guiding the Inquisitor to Josephine's room.   
"This is Zevran Aranai, a former Crow and one of my companions during the Blight. He has agreed to work for Inquisition."  
"Aneth ara, Zevran. I'm pleased to meet you.", Lavellan said, giving one of her true smiles to tattooed elf.  
"The pleasure is all mine. I never expected the Herald of Andraste to inspire such holy thoughts in my mind. Also, lovely Leliana has mentioned you keep having troubles with assassins appearing from behind to stab you during fights, yes?", Zevran asked.  
"That is true.", Lavellan admitted. She had gotten a knife between ribs twice in Hinterlands.  
"It is a problem soon to be forgotten. A few days with me, and you will emerge victorious from every fight, like a shining angel of revenge!", Zevran promised.  
"Who better to teach you how to dodge assassins than a master assassin himself? We have arranged your schedule so you will have plenty of time to train with Zevran. It is essential for you to learn before we leave for Adamant.", Leliana explained.  
"It does make sense.", Lavellan agreed, still looking at the elf. She could not quite understand the meaning of his tattoos, and it bugged her. He had the look of Dalish, but the markings did not fit, and it would be incredibly rude to ask so soon after meeting.  
"Would you accompany me and Zevran to tavern tonight, Inquisitor? He has many wonderful stories of Warden Mahariel.", Leliana said slyly.  
"I would be delighted to.", Lavellan said. Zevran had wavy lines on his cheekbones, but something interesting peeked from his neck, which looked like a symbol of El'gar'nan's wrath to her. Elves of Antiva were described to be feral, which could point towards using symbols of vengeance, and it was always possible for vallaslin designs to variate slightly, but....

Leliana barely could control her grin as they headed towards tavern. Sera had been right when she claimed that "elf always takes an elf, so bumping bits will mean something". Crudely said, but clearly Lavellan's reaction was much more friendly than towards lord Trevelyan. And those long, searching looks Lavellan made at Zevran when she thought he wasn't noticing... Well done, Leliana!


	4. A culture clash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A culture clash between different parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is taking a bit different turn in next chapters, and growing without permission. I like the way it's going, so I changed the tags and story description.

Solas had not seen Lavellan for several days. He had withdrawn into his study to clear his thoughts, trying to make up his mind with not much success. She had been busy with her duties, passing judgements and planning the incoming attack at Adamant Fortress.

He certainly did not expect her to appear in his study late at night, looking like a hare caught in a trap. Her cheeks burned bright red and her eyes were bewildered, almost teary.  
"Hide me!", she begged and lunged past him, slipping under his couch which was still covered by sheet to protect it from paint splashes. Solas had barely time to understand what was happening when the door opened again, revealing Dorian.

  
"Have you seen Inquisitor? Servants said she came this way.", Tevinter mage asked. He smelled of wine and was clearly rather drunk.  
"No.", Solas replied. "Why do you ask?"  
"You should have seen it. It was one of funniest things. We were sitting in tavern, and Boggy was staring at us through window, looking really bloodthirsty. The bartender complains it drives customers away."  
"And?", Solas encouraged him.  
"Lavellan asked Zevran about his tattoos and whether they represented this or that, I don't remember but it was elfy thing. And he was like of course, my sweet, I will happily show you anything you want to see of me, and took his shirt off. She was all business, looking at his back and muttering something about power of symbolism, but then Zev reached and touched the tip of her ear.", Dorian burst into hearty laugh.   
Solas pressed his lips into tight line, not sharing the sentiment."You should have seen it, truly. Lavellan bolted like she was burnt, knocking over a bottle of finest Orlesian honey wine over Leliana's lap, and fled into night. Boggy broke the window by pushing it's head inside. That cursed horse was trying to stab the elf with the sword and accidentally cut Iron Bull's arm, but Boggy's head got stuck to the window frame. Cassandra sent me to look for Lavellan while they try to calm down bartender, patrons and get the horse's head unstuck. Oh, what a night. I haven't had so much fun for ages..", Dorian wiped tears from his face.  
"I fail to see the amusement in that.", Solas said, leafing through his papers.  
"Oh, get lost. It was funny!", Dorian exclaimed. "You elfs and your ears!"  
"What is it with you humans? You find one quirk and play with it, dismissing all the rest as unimportant?", Solas asked, feeling his patience running out. "That is incredibly thick, especially coming from you, Dorian. She defends you to everyone, never mocking Tevinter and always honoring the way you feel about your homeland and your culture. She sits on your shemlen throne, careful not to hurt your faith or feelings although she does not think herself a Herald of Andraste. But you never give any thoughts to her culture or try to respect her beliefs! I'm sure you or anyone in so-called Inner Circle have ever even bothered to ask about them."  
Standing up and advancing on Dorian, Solas snarled:  
"Being set up to be courted by human is not fun, since a dalliance with a member of another race is enough to get a Dalish exiled from her clan. Is that what you want for her? Will it make you laugh? Being publicly harassed in front of whole Inquisition is not fun. Would you appreciate a stranger suddenly stripping you naked in front of Magisterium, and your friends laughing at your terror?"  
"Solas.. I..", Dorian fumbled, trying to find right words, but Solas was not going to listen. He opened the door, grabbed Dorian by shoulders and threw him out to main hall with effortless strength Dorian would not have expected from an elf.  
"I don't want to speak to any of you before you apologize.", he snapped and slammed the door shut. Dorian was left sitting on the floor of main hall, trying to get his inebriated brain to understand what had just happened.

She crawled out from her hiding place, feeling embarrassed.  
"I should have handled it myself.", Lavellan said.   
"No.", Solas shook his head. "It is not your fault that they lack understanding of how things should be. Among ancient elves, it took centuries to grow into adulthood."  
"Solas, how young do you think I am?", Lavellan asked. "I am younger than you, but not a child. I do not welcome their advances because I do not want them, not because I was afraid or too young to understand. It has been almost fifteen years since I got my vallaslin."  
"But I am grateful for your help, and protection.", her voice softened. "Your company makes it easier to live among humans. With you, I don't feel so lost, or out of place."  
"I am glad of it, lethallan.", Solas said quietly. "There are only few precious things left in this world, and you are one of them. I would not see you losing your original purpose because of ignorant shemlen."  
Neither of them knew what to say. They just stood there for a moment, until Solas broke the silence.  
"We both need our sleep, lethallan. Cullen said we will start marching to Adamant as soon as the sun rises. Come and find me in Fade, if you wish."  
"I would like a sweeter dream than what happened tonight.", Lavellan said, smiling at him before she left.  
  


It was easy to slip in Fade.  His familiar presence was easy to find, although he was not sleeping next to her like usually. Instead of walking the Fade to search for memories, she dreamed of Solas. She walked with him in empty Haven, making jokes of Cassandra and listening him to tell how they first met. And she felt the whole world change before she woke up. The blush on her face had nothing to do with Zevran Aranai.

 

 


	5. Night elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan carries out her duties as a First and Dorian makes an apology.

Dorian knocked on Inquisitor's door. It was still dark, but he knew she always rose up before sunrise. He heard a silent murmur of voices behind the door, and when he pushed the door open, he saw a dozen elven children sitting on the floor in a circle around Lavellan.  
"Night elves appeared from darkness, silent and swift, and invaders felt fear in their hearts..", Inquisitor told, her voice carrying the rhythm of experienced storyteller.  
Looking up to door, her tone changed.  
"Oh, Dorian. I didn't notice it was already so late."  
Turning to children, she smiled kindly.  
"It is time for you to go to your tasks, da'len."  
"But I want to know what happens!", one of the children, a red-haired boy, demanded.  
"Patience, da'assan.", Lavellan said firmly.  
"Da'assan.", a little blond girl repeated, trying out a foreign word. "What does it mean?"  
"Little arrow.", Lavellan said, rising on her feet. "But I will see you again after I return from my travels and then we will finish the story of Night Elves."  
"Is it true that you are going to war against demons?", a girl asked. "What if you die?"  
"Da'len, sometimes we must fight to keep our people safe. It can be frightening, but it is also necessary. Every member of a clan has their task, and this is mine.", Lavellan told them calmly. "It is time you attended yours."  
Obediently, the children rose up and left the Inquisitor's quarters, and Dorian caught more than few mentions about Night Elves in their bubbling. Closing the door after them, he shook his head.

  
"A dozen apprentices at once? It is rather ambitious of you."  
"None of them is hardly old enough for magic, Dorian.", Lavellan grinned. "I'm just telling them stories."  
"Stories which they will undoubtedly repeat to their parents, relatives and all other children of the keep. Do you think it is wise to tell them about elves fighting against humans?", Dorian asked.  
"I am quite careful with my selection, sticking to close history and avoiding religion, since most of the children are Andrastians. The story of Night Elves, for example, is based on what Loghain told me. He was their commander during the Orlesian occupation, and felt their achievements were largely forgotten. Loghain was more than happy to supply me with all details he could remember, and I merely worked them in a story. ", Lavellan replied. "Servants' children receive little education, and it would not do to forget everything stored in my head just because I'm taking an extended vacation from my duties as First."  
"Stop bullshitting me, friend.", Dorian said. "You could get away with that explanation if you spoke with Josephine or Vivienne, but I know you too well. You are teaching them elven language and stories and actually making both the Dalish and city elves sit side by side without snickering at each other."  
"Inner discord is the last thing oppressed people can afford.", Lavellan said, her eyes serious. "I can't do much, but if these children grow up willing to look past the differences between Dalish and city elves, it's better legacy than anything else I could have done. There is much we could give to each other. Dalish can fight, but we do not have the understanding of shemlen city elves have. I find it hard to navigate shemlen world when my whole life used to be a clan of three dozen people."  
"I never thought it like that.", Dorian admitted. "You are holding up remarkably well."  
"I'm merely very good at faking.", Lavellan smiled dryly. "Did you know, for example, that I can't sleep in that?", she pointed at gilded Orlesian bed. "My back starts aching, the mattress feels too soft and I toss and turn until I give up. I have a bedroll stashed under the bed, and I usually sleep on the balcony. It's much nicer there, and I still have all those wolf pelts from the demonic pack we killed in Redcliffe. Sleeping under Fade-touched furs feels absolutely decadent."  
"Lady Inquisitor, you are a savage.", Dorian declared. "And your idea of decadence leaves much room for improvement. Educating you is an enormous task, but I'm willing to shoulder it for the sake of Thedas. I am 'vint, after all, and nobody does obliquity better."  
"Dorian, I doubt you woke up before sunrise just to discuss Tevinter, Orlesian beds and elves.", Lavellan noted. She stripped her horrible beige house uniform and started putting on her enchanter armor, not paying Dorian any attention.  
"I.. I am sorry, for yesterday. I should not have laughed at you when you bolted away.", Dorian said, grimacing. He hated apologies.  
"Apology accepted.", Lavellan replied easily. "It's better if we don't speak about it. It was embarrassing for both parties."  
"You were not the one who got manhandled by Solas.", Dorian sniffed. He was just planning to elaborate his misery when he saw the tips of Lavellan's ears turning pink. The blush spread from her ears to her cheeks, until she was as rosy as the sunrise above Skyhold.  
"Oh, you vixen.", Dorian shook his head, practically giggling with glee.  
"It's not like that.", Lavellan disagreed.  
"It never is. Believe me, I know.", he smirked.  
"No, Dorian. I mean it.", the corners of her mouth turned downwards. "I am First of my clan. I can't have anyone. Not for real."  
"Oh.", Dorian said in small voice. He understood all too well. In Tevinter, he could have his pleasures if he wanted, but only if he kept it light. Nothing could ever come of it. Change of subject was clearly in order, and there was one thing which had awakened Dorian's curiosity.

"Are you going to ask more questions from Loghain during the march to Adamant? While you pick his brain about elves, you could also persuade him to part with the secret of his youthful looks. Whatever they make Grey Wardens drink, it was clearly good for him, because he looks remarkably good for a man of his age.", Dorian asked while the two headed downstairs.  
"You want me to obtain beauty advice from Loghain for you?", Lavellan shook her head. "Clearly there is something wrong with your religion if Herald of Andraste is asked to do that."  
"Now you're being mean. I bet if I had a druffalo, or a ram who speaks, you would have jumped for chance.", Dorian sniffed. "Shouldn't you love us all equally, like Andraste herself?"  
The dark look he got in place of answer was just what he wanted. A slightly cranky Inquisitor was always preferable to sad one.  
  



	6. Art of apologizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loghain and Lavellan spar on their way to Adamant Fortress and discuss the traditional mistakes of being too careful commander.
> 
> Solas instructs Lavellan on art of making an apology.

"It was adequate.", Loghain gave a grudging compliment to Inquisitor. "Are you willing to call it a night?"  
"No.", Lavellan shook her head and she stood up, using her staff as support. "If I'm facing a fortress full of Wardens controlled by Corypheus, adequate doesn't cut it."  
"You are resilient, I give you that.", Loghain said. "But I get a feeling you are holding back. You are like a man who has a perfect arrow in his quiver, but is not willing to shoot it just yet. You keep saving it for a harder fight, using lesser resources. It's the traditional mistake of too careful commander. And it is odd, since you have no regrets for throwing a fireball on your companions if they are surrounded by enemy. It still gives me shudders."  
"It's not dangerous. I do it only when they are protected by barriers, and the tactic is extremely effective.", Lavellan grinned.  
"It's effective because it is ruthless, and you need to be ruthless if you want to win.", Loghain replied. "Being compassionate and noble are admirable things, but they are not going to keep you alive in the hands of an enemy. The Wardens you face at Adamant will not spar with you. If you expect me to play nice, and don't make real effort yourself, we are just wasting time. I could be warming my old bones in front of fire right now instead of standing in wet forest."  
"I get your point.", Lavellan sighed. "One round more."  
"I will not hold back.", Loghain warned. "Some of the lads I trained did not learn until they get whacked by flat of sword. You might be the same."  
"Bring it on.", Lavellan said, her mouth a tight line.

She was better this time, but Loghain knew he had been right. She was still holding back something. Closing in, he slammed his shield against elf, hitting her on the face with pummel of his sword. She fell down on the ground and Loghain stepped on her, hearing the quick intake of breath. Finally he saw the glimpse of ferocious fear in her eyes, the look of cornered animal he had been goading out from her, and knew he had succeeded.  
Loghain was prepared for counter-attack, but he hadn't anticipated how it came. One moment he was standing on beaten elf, the next he was the one laying on the ground, being overwhelmed by giant spider. It ripped through his armor, making horrible crunching noises. It pulled the sword from his grip, biting deep on his arm on the place where gauntlets ended and the armor began. The teeth marks burnt, and Loghain emitted a hoarse scream of pain.

 

"Sit down.", Lavellan ordered Loghain who did like he was told. He felt slightly delirious, and did not resist when Lavellan started undoing the clasps of his armor. She muttered something under her breath, tugging on the armor uselessly.   
"Cassandra!", she turned to yell. "Come and give me a hand, here."  
"What do you need, Inquisitor?", Cassandra asked, leaving the group sitting around campfire. She had been chatting there with other members of Inner Circle. To be honest, most of them were busy staring at Inquisitor. She had an impressive bruise on her face, split lip and she clearly favored her left leg.  
"How do you open this thing?", Lavellan asked, sounding annoyed. "It's stuck, and I need to get his upper body naked immediately."  
"Full plate armor requires some experience.", Cassandra said and bent to work.  
"I can remove my own armor.", Loghain tried to protest.  
"You can't. Don't even think of moving that arm before I've treated it.", Lavellan said in tone which was very familiar to Loghain. Every experienced healer sported it when they made threats to their patients. It was a good sign, meaning you had someone who knew what she was doing.

Lavellan rummaged through her backpack, coming up with elfroots and a small metal jar which smelled odd.  
"Solas?", she called to elf who was sitting in front of his tent, reading. "Do you have any spare spider ichors?"  
"I think I have two.", he closed his book, put it carefully away and vanished inside his tent.  
Cassandra finished with the armor, pulling the undershirt over Loghain's head.  
"Are all shemlen hairy like you?", Lavellan asked with obvious distaste. "Even your arms?"  
"Some ladies consider it an asset.", Loghain said dryly.  
"You must be joking.", Lavellan shook her head and opened the small jar, handing him a blob of icky green stuff. "Here's the antivenom. Be sure to swallow them. The taste is bad, but chew properly. I have three, and Solas will give you two. After that, you'll eat ten elfroots."  
"Isn't antivenom usually administered in bottles?", Cassandra asked.  
"Do you think we have bottles or distilling equipment in forest?", Lavellan asked. "The whole distilling business is waste of resources, and it weakens the medicine. The circle herbalists have to give three doses instead of one simply because people complain spider ichors are crunchy. Dandies. Even the smallest Dalish children eat ichors if their Keeper says so."  
She took Loghain's arm and drew a sharp dagger from her belt, cutting a wound over the teeth marks. The veins had blackened almost to his elbow.  
"Now, suck the poison out and spit it away.", she ordered Loghain, who did what he was told.

"Cassandra's face was worth seeing when you told him to eat the ichors.", Solas noted after Loghain had been sent to his tent to rest.  
"The taste is atrocious.", Lavellan admitted with a smile. "But it is more effective that way."  
"I was just wondering how lax the camp guards are if Loghain was poisoned by giant spider so near the camp.", Solas mentioned lightly. "Commander should be informed."  
"I don't think it's necessary.", Lavellan replied. "There was only a single spider. I dealt with it."  
"I'm sure you did.", Solas' eyes were darkly amused. "You must have been very quick, because I can't see a single strand of web on your clothes."  
"You were the one who said I had indomitable focus. I make every effort to utilize it."  
"It is admirable trait.", Solas agreed. "But you have been injured, as well. It will not do for Herald of Andraste to limp inside Adamant Fortress. I will heal it for you."

 

"Was he standing on you?", Solas asked as he probed carefully the giant bruise on her tigh. It was already swelling. Weaving strands of spirit and ice together, he carefully controlled the flow of magic.  
"Yes. I feel bad for Loghain.", Lavellan said. She was serious, and any traces of playful mood were gone. "He did it to teach me a valuable lesson, and he wasn't exactly rewarded for the service."  
Sighing, she continued:  
"It's odd. Based on what I had heard of him, I never expected to like him. But I do."  
"You do? Most people see him as a traitor.", Solas replied.  
"I know. I used to have a friend who traveled with him for a while during the Blight. They didn't like each other, and based on her opinion and the fact he knew Howe was selling elves to Tevinter and allowed it, I was prejudiced against him. But I can't condemn him, either. I do terrible things every day, judging people from pretty chair based on only few sentences of information. I'm bound to make some judgements I will regret. Haven was destroyed because of me. I decided to give mages their freedom, accepting all the dangers my decision might bring. Now I'm leading an army to war. People act in the name of Inquisition, and I carry the responsibility for their actions even if I didn't know what they did. Loghain is one of the few people who know what this is like. He wasn't raised to be leader either, but he became one. And when the people will find out the orb was ours, I will need every lesson I can learn from him."  
"It is a rare soldier who can find his balance. If they lack sufficient passion, they will never become truly skilled. They will either die or leave the life. Too much passion, and they die or become monsters. Fighting without letting it define you is hard."  
"I fear it is true to every action we choose.", Lavellan said quietly. "Every thing we let to define us is a potential danger in one way or another. I guess only spirits like Cole can embrace their purpose fully, with no regrets for all other things they must lose in the way."  
"Spirits are luckier than humans or elves, in that regard.", Solas nodded quietly. He did not want to bring it up, but he had to. "About yesterday."  
"Yes?", Lavellan asked. Her face was guarded, with a shade of sadness.  
"I didn't think you would be able to draw me inside your dream, to purposefully seek me out, although I invited you to.", Solas began. "I didn't plan for the kiss. It was intuitive and ill-considered."  
"The blame is mine.", Lavellan said, keeping her eyes locked at the canvas of her tent. "I started it. I should say I'm sorry."  
"But you are not?", Solas asked.  
"No, I'm not.", she admitted, still not looking at him. "That's the whole problem. I should be sorry."  
The silence stretched between them.  
"You must have been terrible child.", Solas said the first thing coming to his mind. "I can just imagine you, made to apologize about something you did."  
That won him a snort.  
"You are approaching this wrong way. I was taught that you should look at the person you are apologizing.", he said, laying down on his side and turning Lavellan's face gently towards him.  
"And then?", she asked, blue eyes still a little wary, but amused.  
"I'll show you how it's done. It's been a long time, but I used to be quite good at this.", Solas said, winding a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "Now, pay attention. I'll go first."  
"I'm ready to listen.", she offered.  
"I'm terribly sorry that I'm not sorry at all for kissing you.", Solas said solemnly.  
She almost started to laugh, but she recovered quickly and arranged to her face to proper, serious look which was entirely fake.  
"I'm terribly sorry that I'm not sorry at all for kissing you.", she repeated after him.  
"Excellent. And if you wish to be very sincere, you can offer consolidations."  
"Such as?"  
"It depends on your motivations. If I was honest with you, I would say that I need time to think."  
"I would welcome it.", Lavellan said.  
"Yes, but it is not very good consolidation, and I was instructing you on the art of apologizing. A good consolidation would go like this.", Solas said, his lips almost touching hers as he whispered most sincerely: "I promise never to do it again."  
And then he kissed her. Her lips parted for him, and he could taste her laughter. It was even sweeter than in Fade. Pulling himself away, he rolled on his back and stood up.  
"And then, you should take your leave and go, to prove your resolve and intentions.", he said, with a glorious smirk on his face.  
"You lied!", Lavellan blamed him, her face blushed rosy. She was beautiful like that, lovely with her disheveled hair falling from crown of braids.  
"A good consolidation is not necessarily a honest one.", Solas remarked and left the tent.


	7. Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan and companions brave the Fade and unwanted truths.

"This is wrong on so many levels that I can't even start listing them.", Varric grumbled. Their illustrious leader, lady Inquisitor Lavellan, was busy reading a scrap of paper she had taken from skeleton's grasp, not at all bothered by fact she had opened a rift to save them from certain death and drawn them physically into Fade.  
"This is fascinating!", Solas said, his eyes shining. "It is not an area I would have chosen, of course, but to physically walk in the Fade..."  
"Oh, yeah. It must be a dream come true for your crazy ass.", Iron Bull grimaced.  
"Right. You like it here. Isn't that wonderful?", Varric rolled his eyes.  
"The real question is how to get out.", Loghain pointed out. "Solas, you are the Fade expert. Any advice?"  
"The demon who controls this area is extremely powerful. Some variety of fear, I guess. Fade is shaped by intent and emotion. Remain focused, and it will lead you where you wish to go. I suggest that you remain wary of it's manipulations and prepare what's certain to be a fascinating experience.", Solas said and hurried after Lavellan, who had found a glowing essence from a pile of rocks.  
"Are all mages as mad as those two or is it an elf thing?", Varric asked.  
"Don't look at me.", Hawke defended herself. "I'm just a normal mage."  
"Yeah, a normal mage who killed Arishok in a duel.", Iron Bull muttered.

 

"I can't take it, it's wrong! The demon here is wrong! It's nothing like me, but it is like me, and everything here is twisted, not like home. I will not be bound like Wardens bound spirits in Adamant!", Cole was in tears.  
"Stay with us, little guy.", Iron Bull said. "Don't do anything odd."  
Lavellan walked quickly to Cole and took his face between her hands.  
"Focus on me, Cole.", Lavellan commanded. "Focus on my feelings."  
"Are you sure it is wise?", Hawke asked, but Lavellan ignored her.  
"The beautiful morning, hearing the song of birds after a long night. The first rays of sun touching his face, his dark hair. The love in her heart, strong and proud as she steps out from aravel with him for the first time, to stand before clan and the gods of her People.", Cole murmured. "Thank you. It helps."  
"You are welcome, Cole.", Lavellan said. "Shield yourself with that. It helps me."  
"Yes.", Cole nodded eagerly. "If I remember too, it stays sharper and you will never forget. I can help you."  
Lavellan smiled as she removed her hands from Cole's face and returned to her place next to Loghain. She was grateful for everything Solas had taught her, because she could turn those lessons to help Cole. Giving him something to focus on, a memory calling for compassion, strengthened his nature against demon who ruled here. And it felt good to share her memory with someone who would understand.

 

"I didn't know you were married, Inquisitor. You should tell me these things for my book.", Varric noted as the group started moving again.  
"What?", Lavellan asked, clearly taken aback. "Married? What are you talking about?"  
"You know when two people love each other very much and want to spend rest of their life together..."  
"Or they don't love each other, but have to spend their life together.", Loghain supplied grimly.  
"The Dalish do not marry.", Solas said. "They bond."  
"Same thing.", Hawke claimed. "Merrill told me all about it."  
"I rather doubt that she did.", Lavellan said dryly. "I sense a spirit nearby. She might have something useful to tell us.", she announced and gestured for Solas to follow, splitting from the main group.  
"It was the happiest day of her life.", Cole whispered, lost in his thoughts. A smile had spread on his face. "The day of hope and love and victory, all because of him. She can still taste the mead of celebration in her tongue, and the tears of happiness."  


 

"So.. You are not sent by Andraste, after all.", Varric sighed. "Figures. Just another magic ritual gone wrong."  
"I prefer this explanation.", Lavellan said. "It makes more sense than Herald of Andraste-story. Did you know that the tavern keeper in Haven, Flissa, believed I was sent by Maker to avenge all wrongs made to elves? She was desperate to prove me that she paid for their work."  
"You haven't done much to discourage them.", Loghain snorted.  
"It's not my place to deny faith in these dark times.", Lavellan said sweetly.  
"That's the way you see it? The faithful get better conscience and elves get money?", Loghain asked.  
"Everyone is happy that way, aren't they?", Lavellan replied.  
"For a holy woman, your morals are questionable.", Loghain shook his head.  
"That depends completely on the pantheon.", Solas noted with amusement. "Mythal would have found this very humorous."  
"Thank you, Solas.", Lavellan said. "I will use that explanation when I'll explain Keeper why I picked up a magical, unknown artifact without any knowledge on how it works."  
Their banter was interrupted by booming voice coming out from nowhere.  
"The qunari will make a lovely host to my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself.", it said.  
"I'd like to see you try.", Iron Bull growled.  
"Ignore it.", Solas said. "It is the demon who rules here, bringing out our fears in hopes to weaken us."  
Nobody wanted to talk much after that.

"Teyrn Loghain mac Tir. The brilliant commander. Pity that one time you tried to rule, you failed so miserably. You had to be beaten, humiliated, less you destroyed your own country. You even doomed the Wardens by bringing Inquisitor down on them. You destroy everything you touch."  
"Is that all you've got? It's nothing I haven't said to myself.", Loghain snapped.  
Lavellan did not look at him, hoping to give him what little comfort he could find from his defiance. Laundering their worst fears in front of others, even if they were united against Nightmare, was not comfortable, and she did her best to focus on the environment around her. Although this was demon's lair, the Fade reacted to any will strong enough to shape it.

She let the baits directed to Varric, Cole and Hawke to slip through her mind, not paying them any attention, but when Nightmare started speaking ancient elven, she felt herself snapping in attention.  
"Dirth ma, harellan", the demon started, and Lavellan kept her face carefully neutral. Thanks to long trip to Western Approach and back, her language skills were rather good nowadays, or at least good enough to be able to carry a conversation in ancient elven. It was not hard to understand what demon said, although it had curious accent.  
"I tell you, noble rebel, you have no comfort in your loss. Your pride is dead.", Nightmare said.  
"Nothing is inevitable.", Solas replied.  
The interesting thing was, Lavellan noted in her mind, was the demon's choice of language. Nightmare's goal was to unsettle them, and she didn't know why it would choose to taunt Solas in language nobody was supposed to understand. Or how it knew Solas understood it. This would need further thought as soon as they were out of danger.

She almost missed her own taunt, made in common tongue. So it wasn't an elf thing.  
"Each of your successes threatens those you swore to serve. You fight with shield made of human faith, and each time you save them, you push yourself further away from who you are. When the end comes, you have sacrificed everything to become nothing. Your prize will be waiting when you sit on your throne, and the dream will turn into ashes in your mouth.", Nighmare purred in her ears.  
Lavellan closed her eyes briefly, but did not answer. She knew the words rang true in her heart, and empty gestures of defiance would not make them less real. Only thing which mattered was her resolve to go on nonetheless.  
"You could just switch chairs? Or stand?", Hawke offered in sarcastic way which was meant to be fun. Lavellan could not see humor in it.

 --

 

It was supposed to be happy moment, but nobody felt much joy. The Inquisition had conquered the fortress and stopped Warden's ploy to bring Nighmare from Fade. They had survived Nightmare's realm and returned, but with a heavy price. Lavellan had exiled Wardens for their actions, although she had agreed to let Blackwall stay. And their escape from Fade had a cost, which Varric could not accept.

"You let Hawke die! I knew you didn't like her, but I never expected you would leave her to die!", Varric shouted.  
"Someone had to stay to keep Nightmare from entering through the rift.", Lavellan said. "She volunteered, and I accepted her choice."  
"She was my friend! I never would have brought her to Skyhold if I had known what would happen. The world needed Hawke! Loghain is old, and he should have died for at least three times by now. You spared him because you like him, and you didn't like Hawke!", Varric's voice was easily heard from distance. They had walked away from the campfire and tents of Inner Circle, but there was no true privacy in middle of military camp.  
"Control yourself, Varric.", Lavellan's voice cracked down like a whip. Two spots of red flamed on her cheekbones. "Hawke was your friend, and I honor your sorrow for her loss. But in bigger picture, Loghain is more valuable, and as Inquisitor, I would not choose otherwise. I banished the Wardens, because they must be punished for their failure. They have to learn they do not exist alone in the world, there are limits concerning even them. The day might come when we need Wardens again, and Loghain is only man I can count on to bring them back from Weisshaupt without bearing a childish grudge. Sometimes people must be broken to build them anew, and he understands the necessity, having done it to himself. Hawke, no matter how dear to you, was a former champion of a ruined city. She could not have done what Loghain will do."  
"A former champion of a ruined city? What you are, then? With your tattoos and elfy ways, that dead language Solas taught you to speak? A pretend hero of ruined people, who is too blind to admit you have already been bent, bowed and whatever the oath of Dales said.", Varric regretted the words the minute they came out of his mouth, but he was hurting.  
"I am the Inquisitor, and that is all you need to know about me.", Lavellan said, her eyes cold. "Take time to grieve. I will talk with you again when we get back to Skyhold. Until then, I suggest you think whether you are able to work under my command or do you wish to leave."  
With a flourish, she turned away and left him standing alone a little ways from the campfire.

Lavellan passed the campfire and her companions sitting around it without a word and disappeared somewhere between the endless rows of tents.  
"I didn't know she had it in her.", Vivienne said, sounding pleased.  
"It's a pity.", Dorian said. "She used to be such a nice girl."  
"Don't be a fool, my dear. Being nice doesn't get you anywhere.", Vivienne noted.  
"You would know.", Blackwall muttered.  
"Of course I do. Nobody just ends up in Orlesian court.", the First Enchanter announced and took another spoonful of tasteless soup they were offered. The food left much room for improvement, but maybe joining Inquisition had not been a mistake after all.

 

The Fade was relief, as always. She didn't know how Boggy did it, but he was always there when she felt restless and lost, calming the storm in her mind.  
"A lot happened today.", she told the dead horse as she mounted it and let Boggy lead the way.  
"You doubt yourself.", the horse answered.  
"Yes. I didn't like Hawke, I never liked her because she killed Sabrae clan and threw away that book.", Lavellan sighed. "I wonder if my dislike had anything to do with my decision. I believe my arguments were sound, reasonable, but Varric was right. I never liked Hawke, and I do not mourn her death. I'm happy Loghain survived, and I feel better knowing he is the senior Warden now. He doesn't hold my decision against me. It had to be done."  
"Even the Creators worried over their choices when they walked here.", Boggy said. "You can't feel bad for making a decision which was easy for you, when it was also the decision you believe was right. You must be true to yourself. A purity of thought is built on strong values and following them. You helped Cole by strengthening his nature against Nightmare. You must accept your own nature in same way, and find means to strengthen your resolve. Otherwise you will fall."  
"Thank you, Boggy.", Lavellan said, bending to pat the horse's neck. "You are a true friend."


	8. Judgement day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight against Corypheus becomes personal for Lavellan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who like to read with music, I recommend "You are no son of mine" from Game of Thrones for this chapter.  
> www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzfbTWpoZYA

Lavellan hated judgement days. She spent so much time travelling around southern Thedas and closing rifts that she had always a backlog of several cases. The court days made her irritable. First she had to hear out a case, listen what the accused had to say, and make her decision. Some days, like today, it didn't stop there. She had judged lord Erimond to die by her hand, which meant she had to wait until afternoon because Skyhold didn't have gallows and it had to be built, so everyone could watch. Lavellan hated the ceremonial sword of Inquisition - whose bright idea it had been to give a two-handed sword to a elven mage who had trouble lifting it with one hand - and she was worried that she wouldn't hit the neck at first try. Killing people was much simpler than ceremonially executing them.  
She did manage to execute lord Erimond without hacking his neck like chopping wood, but before his death, he had looked up and said:  
"Whatever you take from a living god, he has already taken from you, a thirty times over."  
It did nothing to improve Lavellan's mood, which was already tense because she remembered what Nightmare had said about sitting on her throne. Lavellan knew it was foolish, but she was still frightened. Only way to get rid of the feeling was to finish judging, stand up and see nothing had happened so she gritted her teeth and told Josephine to call the next case in.

The judgement day dragged on. Ser Ruth wanted to be made an example. Lavellan disapproved. There were always fools who wanted others to punish them, so they could avoid making peace with their own thoughts. It taught them nothing, and gave an easy way out. But since she couldn't hit her with staff on the head and shout at her, like Keeper usually did to these cases, she decided to sentence ser Ruth to mines. If she wanted to be punished, she could at least be useful. Although Lavellan still privately thought that whacking with staff would have been better option in a long run.

Josephine had cleverly constructed the schedule to start from the worst case. The goat thrower was refreshing change. It was finally something Lavellan understood. They had nothing personal against each other, but he had to throw a goat because he was chief and she had to react, because she was the Inquisitor. Perfectly reasonable. Lavellan was pleased to give him what he wanted.  
"It seems our conflict was accidental, Chief Movran, but it can't be repeated.", Lavellan said from her throne. "I banish you and your clan - with as many weapons as you can carry - to Tevinter."  
Avvar chief laughed.  
"My idiot boy got us something after all!"

 

"Is there anything else?", Lavellan asked hopefully, and felt relieved when Josephine shook her head.  
"No, your Worship. This was al--"  
Lavellan was just going to rise from her throne, when a soldier hurried through the main door and kneeled in front of her.  
"Your Worship, there is a badly injured elf who came to gates, begging to see you. He says his name is Therion of clan Lavellan. We would have let him in, but.. he is tainted."  
For a moment, she could not breathe. She just stared at the guard, feeling the tears of fear prickling in her eyes, and asked:  
"Tainted?"  
"Darkspawn taint.", the soldier said, not able to look her in the eye. "He said... It's better if you hear it from him."  
"Say it.", Lavellan commanded, her voice breaking.  
"He said that Corypheus butchered your whole clan. They left him alive to bring you the message."

The crowd in the throne room had been deathly silent until that moment, and the sudden noise was deafening. People shouting, speaking, everyone too loud. Lavellan could not make sense of the sounds. Nothing made sense. She moved like in a dream, standing up from the throne and walking through the hall. People let her pass, saying things she didn't hear, couldn't understand.

She went to the gates. She could see a hunched form on the other side, laying on the snow, but the stupid shemlen and their stupid gate was between them.  
"Inquisitor, I understand this is a horrible tragedy, but it is not safe for you to go there alone.", Cullen said.  
"Open the gates.", Lavellan said. Her voice didn't sound familiar in her ears.  
"I have to insist that you take at least some soldiers, for your safety. And you don't even have your armor, or a coat."  
"You will open the gates or I will go through them!", she shouted in rage, and her heart broke when she saw the man on other side lifting his head up when he heard her voice.  
"She is your Inquisitor, Commander.", Solas said. "Open the gates."  
He was holding her fur cloak neatly folded over his arm, and when Cullen gave an order to open the gates, Solas pulled the cloak on her like dressing a child. He said nothing, but he wiped away the tears running over her face with the back of his hand.  
"No soldiers.", Solas told Cullen. "I will go with her. Keep everyone away. This is a private matter."

 

Therion tried to stand up when he saw her, but he couldn't. His face was greyish, lined with black under his vallaslin. The guard had been right. He was infected.  
"Keeper.", he greeted her and then Lavellan finally understood what he was holding on his hand. It was a staff made of _dahl'amythal,_ Mythal's tree. It didn't grow in human lands.  
"The ring is in my pocket. Take it. It's yours now.", he offered the staff.  
Lavellan dropped on her knees, barely registering the hurt when she hit the ground. Wordlessly she took the elaborately carved staff in her hand and felt the weight of old wood. The carvings had been softened by generations of Keepers holding the staff, each adding their own marks, and now it was hers. It could mean only one thing. Dashana Istimaethoriel, keeper of Lavellan clan, was dead and whole clan with her. She felt like she would choke under the weight of wood in her hand.  
 _Your prize will be waiting when you sit on your throne, and the dream will turn into ashes in your mouth._

"Bring Blackwall.", she said to Solas, not trusting herself enough to turn towards him. "He was a recruiter, he knows what to do. We have to try."  
"As you wish, lethallan.", he said simply. Hearing his silent footsteps leaving them, Lavellan ripped off her cloak and wrapped it around Therion, pulling the man on her lap. His body was burning with fever.  
"We did our best, but there were too many demons.", Therion tried to talk, his teeth chattering together. "The little ones cried. Vessalin was burned alive inside her aravel."  
Lavellan sat on the snow, her whole world shrinking to one man and words he spoke.  
"Corypheus. I saw Corypheus."

 

Therion had sank into unconsciousness by the time Solas returned with Blackwall. Something had happened, she could see it. It had taken too long for a simple task. Solas' mouth was a thin, angry line and Blackwall looked mortified.  
"You tell her.", Solas snapped.  
Lavellan looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. Her clothes had been soaked through, but she didn't seem to notice it. She held the hunter on her lap, her cold fingers soothing his burning skin. Blackwall felt horrible for what he had to say.

"I am sorry, Inquisitor, but I haven't been honest to you. I am not Grey Warden. My name is Thom Rainier, and I used to be a captain in Gaspard's war against Celene. Me and my soldiers were ordered to murder a family of Celene's allies and their children, and we did it. Afterwards, I couldn't bear what I had done and ran away. Then I met the real Blackwall. He recruited me, but when we went to get blood for my Joining, the Darkspawn got him. I thought Wardens would never believe me, so I assumed his name and went on, living as him.", Blackwall said, the words heavy on his heart.  
"So you can't help him.", Lavellan said, her voice empty and very tired. She looked at the hunter, clawing desperately for control. Blackwall saw she was biting her lip so hard that it bled.  
"Thom Rainier, you admitted you were guilty of murder. On the authority of Inquisition, I hereby sentence you to follow the exiled Wardens and Join them. I wish you to gather your things and leave.", she said, turning her back on them.  
"I'm sorry.", Blackwall offered, although he knew it was futile.  
"I am sorry too.", Lavellan whispered.

 

"How is she?", Cassandra asked from Solas in the yard.  
"What do you think?", Solas' voice was harsh. "Corypheus killed her whole clan, _personally_. She sits there, holding the last of them on her lap and listening the recounting of their names. Who was burned, who was cut down, how the children cried for their mothers. And she knows it was because of her. She fought Corypheus, and she exiled the Wardens. Had she chosen differently, that hunter might have been saved. It was a still right choice, but she _will_ blame herself."  
"Can I do something to help?", she asked.  
Solas considered for a moment. Cassandra's compassion was genuine, as was her respect.  
"Keep people away from the garden. Especially priests. If mother Giselle goes to her now and says something about Andraste or Maker, she might bring the walls down on her. You may come, if you wish. But not others. She can't be the Inquisitor now."  
"Keeper of a dead clan.", Cassandra said quietly and shook her head. "I will see to it."

 

When Solas returned to edge of the mountain, she had already done it. She wiped the blade on snow, leaving a red line on it's wake.  
"Help me.", Lavellan said, her eyes looking much older than in the morning.  
"Of course.", Solas replied and lifted the dead hunter from snow. The cloak wrapped around body was wet from melted snow and blood. Lavellan followed by his side, holding a staff. It was full of curious carvings and old, very old magic. Solas itched to get a closer look at it, but now was not the time.

 

Solas was surprised when they reached Skyhold and garden. He had asked Cassandra to keep the people away, and she had obeyed, but he never had expected to see elves waiting there. He saw castle servants with their children, some Circle mages and Dalish from Bull's Chargers, that woman who insisted that her staff was a bow with crystal on it.  
"Do you know these people?", he asked quietly from Lavellan. "Should they leave?"  
"I know them.", she replied simply. "I teach them."  
Dalish stepped forwards. She held a freshly cut oaken staff and cedar branch in her hands.  
"Thank you.", Lavellan said, taking them.  
Solas laid the dead hunter down on the ground and Lavellan gently closed Therion's fingers around the oaken staff, putting the cedar branch in the other hand. She pressed a kiss on hunter's forehead and then folded the cloak around him.  
"We can help with digging.", one of the mages offered. Solas was startled to notice it was Fiona. He had not expected her to show up.  
"Thank you.", Lavellan said.

 

Cassandra watched from the garden wall. Fiona and her mages made short work of the stony ground, and some of the men lowered the body in. The mages were just going to start filling the grave, when Lavellan told them to wait. Her face was calm and composed, too much so.  
Cassandra felt the curious tingling of magic in the air, when Lavellan kneeled on the ground, holding the carved staff with both hands. The elf closed her eyes and a song flowed in the air. Her voice was bright and sad soprano, which gathered strength with each elven word. The mage from Bull's Chargers joined her, and then the children. And finally some of the servants.

It was unrealistic to watch the scene. The song had not changed at all. The words were still same, the haunting tune just like Solas remembered. He had heard it here so many times when they forged the Veil, but he could never have foreseen it being sung here, now. By people who barely knew the meaning of words. But they didn't know the dead man either.  
The staff Lavellan held was glowing with old magic. He could feel the ground beneath their feet moving. Solas had never been gifted with manipulating nature, but he had seen enough to know Lavellan was calling the old seeds from below, feeding them with magic. The tree was just a sapling when it broke the ground in the bottom of grave, but Lavellan persisted. She drew more power from the Fade through her staff, her face pale and sad, and the tree grew. The roots filled the grave, and dahl'amythal stood proudly, already taller than a man. But she still didn't give up.  
"It is enough, lethallan.", Solas said firmly. The tree was high enough to reach the garden wall, and she had spent all her strength. On purpose, he suspected, but he could not fault her. He understood too well.

"This is Therion's tree.", Lavellan stood up with shaking legs, leaning heavily on her staff.  
"We will remember.", Dalish said, her words clearly a part of ritual Solas did not know. The children murmured the words, and he felt strangely annoyed. What did it matter if he didn't know the Dalish funeral rites? They were just bits and pieces mixed up from other things. He wasn't here for them, or for the dead man although he pitied his fate. He was here for her.  
"Where is your ring?", he heard Dalish ask from Lavellan. Solas' mood darkened. He knew that ring. All Keepers wore sylvanwood rings for his so-called betrayal of gods, as a reminded of their "duty" to protect their clans against him.  
"Under the tree.", she replied. "I left it there."  
"Why?"  
"I'm going to make a new one. For Corypheus."


	9. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra guards Inquisitor's door and advises Varric on new series. Solas tries to comfort Lavellan.

They slid into odd existence after Therion's funeral. Skyhold went on like before, but Inquisitor's quarters were dark and quiet. She slept, roaming the roads of Fade with Solas. There was familiarity in the way she curled against his side, resting her head against his shoulder. A small sigh, or maybe a sob, and she sank away.  
"Give me time.", Solas had said, before closing his eyes, and Cassandra had done her best. But it had been days ago, and they were still sleeping. The Inner Circle found it unnerving.

"I understand she's sad. I _get_ sad. But the solution for sad is stealing cookies and getting drunk, not _sleeping_.", Sera said.  
"I hope she has not rediscovered the secret of uthenera. Even I won't wait for that long, albeit Leliana pays me handsomely for my time.", Zevran remarked.  
"What if she gets possessed? She must be in terribly vulnerable state right now.", Dorian asked.  
"She won't get possessed. Solas is watching her.", Cassandra said resolutely.  
"How can you be so sure, my dear?", Vivienne demanded. "He is not a Circle mage, trained to withstand possession, and neither is she."  
"I am sure.", Cassandra replied. They were not convinced.

The situation escalated until Cassandra found herself sitting on the floor, back against the door leading to Inquisitor's quarters on the fourth day.  


Cassandra stared at the dusty stairs and the giant hole on the right side wall, wondering why it has not been fixed yet. Cullen had insisted on giving these rooms to Inquisitor, claiming that her quarters were the most secure location in whole Skyhold, easy to defend, but the hole made his theory seem less plausible. If assassins ever got to Skyhold, they didn't have to fight their way through the main hall. Grappling hook would do. The elf Leliana had hired, Zevran, had mentioned that if he was working for Corypheus, he would have slipped inside Skyhold first, waited until Lavellan heard the news and attacked when she was weak and distracted. His remark had sent both Cullen's and Leliana's people rushing around the castle, and Cassandra had taken a watch at her door. It made her feel like she did something useful for Lavellan. Cassandra was not very good at comforting people. Punching them was easier, so she usually stuck to that.

Maybe she was foolish to sit here, guarding their sleep. Maybe others were right, and she was making a mistake trusting Solas. Dorian and Vivienne had argued strongly against letting her sleep at all, speaking about dangers of possession. But Solas had proved his information on Fade and her mark to be accurate on several occasions, and Lavellan trusted him. All Cassandra could do was to keep watch and pray to Maker, hoping she had made the right choice.

It had been a long time since she had a friend. Inquisitor had known Cassandra well enough to send that foolish lord Trevelyan with his smutty book to Seeker's quarters, and polite enough never to ask about it afterwards. Maybe Cassandra would tell her that there was a courier now, regularly carrying letters filled with poetry which was embarrassingly sweet. Cassandra had accused him for stealing the lines from someone, but she had not found out which author it could be. Yet. More letters were needed, to gather sufficient proof. She could recite all of them by heart. Long years repeating Chant had given her a knack for learning by rote.

The second reason why Cassandra was sitting against the Inquisitor's door for fourth day in row was not something she would admit to anyone. She knew how reserved Inquisitor was. They were much alike in that respect. But after the funeral, when she had followed Solas and Lavellan upstairs to her quarters, she had seen something which touched her heart and convinced the Seeker that doing what Solas asked was right thing to do. It had been a small thing, really. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions. No. Cassandra had watched how Solas lifted up his hands, carefully touching Lavellan's hair. His eyes were serious and so blue when he pulled off the pins, and her hair came undone, cascading down on her shoulders and back. Lavellan had done nothing at first, simply looking at him, mirroring that same utterly serious expression. But then, when he was done, she had cupped his cheek in her hand for a moment, slowly running her fingers along his skin. It was a caress, undemanding yet full of meaning, honesty. Solas' breath had hitched in his throat for a second. Oh, it was just like in Swords and Shields! Cassandra was biting her knuckles to keep herself from squirming in delight when the door downstairs opened.

"Good thing I brought you something to eat.", Varric said. "It's a bad sign when people start to bite their hands."  
"I was merely blowing on my knuckles, to keep my hands warm.", Cassandra said haughtily. "There is a giant hole in the wall, in case you haven't noticed."  
"Sure, Seeker.", Varric said good-naturedly. "Here you go. While you eat, you might tell me what's going on in there."  
"Nothing. They sleep.", Cassandra said, her mouth full of Orleasian cucumber gratin. Oh, Maker, she had been hungry.  
"Sleep? There are many kinds of sleeping, but none of them usually take four days.", Varric rubbed his chin. "It's hard to write a book when there is so little information available."  
"A book? You are writing a book again? I really liked that last part of Swords and Shields Lavellan made you to write.", Cassandra said, brightening up. "What is it about?"  
"I'm not really sure. My editor says that the sales of my crime series have sunk, because people don't want to read about danger in times like these. They want happy, fluffy things, and she wants me to deliver. Sadly, I can't continue Swords and Shields because Hawke sent a copy to Red, and she didn't take it well. I have to find a new protagonist. Since you are only person who honestly admitted liking my romance series, do you have any ideas? Inspiration?"  
"Let me think.", Cassandra said, eager to help if it meant more books. "Hmh. Dorian and Iron Bull are happy, but they aren't very romantic. Dorian says nasty things to him all the time. Josephine is claiming to have headache because Blackwall was exiled, and she mourns. But..", she lowered her voice and nodded towards the door, "you could always write about them."  
"Chuckles and the Inquisitor?", Varric whispered. "Really?"  
"I have had almost four days to think this through.", Cassandra said, happy to be able to share her theory with someone, finally. "I didn't see it first, because they go about it in different way. It's a hundred small things, very sweet ones. You know Inquisitor always keeps her distance from everyone, but they are spooning while they sleep. He undid her hair, and his breath caught when she touched his face. He paints those frescoes for her, to tell her story to everyone even after the languages have been lost and names have been forgotten. Can you think a better courting gift for our Lavellan?"  
"Putting it that way, it could explain a few things. Chuckles did not like our plot to get rid of Boggy, and he isn't too keen on Zevran either. But it doesn't solve my problem. Romance novels need action and dashing heroes. He doesn't even have hair."  
"It might be the best if you changed few facts, anyway. More outrageous, the better. Give him dreadlocks.", Cassandra suggested.  
"Now you are talking, Seeker.", Varric nodded eagerly and took a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Would you mind bringing me a quill from Inquisitor's desk? I have an excellent starting scene in mind."

 

\--

 

Solas could feel her presence in the Fade the moment he closed his eyes. It was not the bright glow like usually. Lavellan's spirit was full of ragged, sharp edges, and it bled all around the place. Solas hoped fervently that Cassandra would do as he had asked and keep others away. Vivienne and Dorian, misinformed as they were, were undoubtedly going on and on about dangers of possession and demons. Demons were the least of Solas' worries right now.

 

"Do you remember our discussion about nature of spirits and demons? Back in Haven?", he asked from Lavellan who stood on a pier, looking down at the water. Solas recognized the place; it was Hinterlands. They had found Blackwall here. He felt the sting of betrayal, but knew it was worse for her. She had allowed herself to hope.  
"Solas, not now.", she said quietly.  
"Now is precisely the time when you must remember, lethallan.", he said, not giving up. "It is important. In ancient times, elves were much like spirits, less like humans. We walked the Fade, shaping the world into our image, because we understood what we were."  
"Solas, I appreciate what you try to do, but it does not matter.", Lavellan's eyes were full of tears. "I am Keeper of nothing, now. I tried my best to shelter my people, thinking that if I played this shemlen game of faith, I would have more power to protect them. But it was the very thing which killed them all. My choices killed them, not Corypheus. I should have brought them to Skyhold, taken another name, told them to split up and flee."  
"The clan used to be my whole world, Solas. What's the use of trying to remember, trying to save what was lost, if there is nobody to pass it to?"  
Her words cut him. They were echoes from another time, from a much younger elf who had woken up from his slumber only to find out that his sacrifices, meant to save the People, had led to ruin. There were no answers to be found, except one. It was still a small, fragile hope, balanced on knife's edge.  
"There are other clans, lethallan. You might find yourself a new kin, from the most unexpected places."  
"It would not be the same. They would be different people. "  
"No, it isn't.", Solas said. "But it can be a blessing, truer than any of those given out by gods."  
She looked unconvinced. With desperation, Solas pressed on:  
"I know you understood what Nightmare said in the Fade. I can't speak about it, lethallan, but I beg you to listen. You must understand, you must not let yourself to become twisted from what you truly are. Otherwise there will be no hope left for me in my grief."  
His last words made him feel naked, and he wished he could take them back, but then he saw Lavellan's shoulders slouching.  
"I will listen.", she said. "But not here. Take me elsewhere."

 

"The spirits wish to join the living, and a demon is that wish gone wrong. There was a time when everything sang the same. We are not so very different, even though the Veil separates us, making the true understanding impossible. Spirits form as a reflection of this world and it's passions. We will never lack the spirits of desire, vengeance or rage, but gentler spirits are far more rare.", Solas said, walking over the sand dynes of Western Approach.  
"We already discussed that, Solas. I remember."  
"Concept of self gives a spirit the chance to maintain it's nature. But if the will, personality, isn't strong enough, the spirit changes. Cole described it as becoming what batters you, bruises your being. Wisdom can be twisted into Pride, Purpose into Desire. They are not their true labels, like humans think, because spirits are not benevolent or evil. They are simply reflections of world, some of them aggressive and some not."  
"The Dalish do not use any magic involving spirits, because we are taught that spirits are dangerous. After meeting Boggy and Cole, I do wonder..", Lavellan said quietly. "Is it because spirits are dangerous, or we are dangerous to them?"  
"It is yet another fragment of Elvhenan, lethallan.", Solas replied. "We respected spirits, understood them. Why to bind something when you could simply ask? Why to summon, when you saw spirits all around you? There have always been fools who do not ask, but they were frowned upon and dealt with."  
Lavellan walked beside him deep in thought, the ragged edges of her aura still glimmering.  
"You once told me that the Breach allows spirits to enter the world physically. What does it make me, for entering Fade likewise?"  
"Something Fade has not seen for a long time.", Solas said.  
Lavellan gave him a slightly frustrated look, but did not press further.  
"Are you worried, then, that I might corrupt spirits with my emotions? I have no intention coming here physically."  
"It is a chance, but a small one. You have better command on yourself than that. I'm mostly concerned about _your_ spirit."  
"I find it odd that both you and Boggy seem to share the sentiment. It is very unusual topic of discussion. You talk about how you don't want to see me losing my original purpose and he says I should accept my nature the same way as Cole does to strengthen my resolve, or I will fall. Listening at you two going about it separately is starting upset me. Soon I have to ask Cullen to recite me a litany of Adralla every night before I go to bed, just to put my mind to rest.", Lavellan replied. Her voice was light, but she was not joking.  
"I didn't know that.", Solas' eyes narrowed. He would need to have a word with Boggy. In private.  
"Well, he does, and as far as I know, I'm not a spirit."  
"No, you are not. You are simply what you were always meant to be. One of the People. An elf.", Solas said, trying to calm her down. "I told you that our immortality was not caused by magic. It was simply what we were. Elves are not spirits, but in ancient times, we were much alike. Spirits do not have concept of time, because their world is not static. Ours was much the same. Our connection to Fade sustained us, slowing our pace of living to keep us alive for as long as we wished it to be so."  
"My mother knew a Keeper, a man who has lived much longer than human life span. Some say that three, even. His clan does not have contact with humans or even other Dalish. They come only for Arlatvhen, and not always for that, either. I met him once, seven years ago, but I believe he still lives.", Lavellan mused.  
"I thought the next meeting of the clans is only an year away.", Solas said, unable to resist poking at a hole in her story.  
"It is.", Lavellan replied. "It was not where I met him."  
Willing to let the matter drop because upholding their unvoiced truce of allowing secrets was far more important than some Dalish in the woods, Solas continued:  
"What I'm trying to say, lethallan, is that you must not let your grief twist you. I don't know whether you were always like this, or were you changed by the anchor, but your spirit is something I have seen only in my deepest journeys to the Fade. You have shown wisdom in your actions, strength tempered by compassion and kindness. I would not see your purity turn into viciousness. Mourn, but do not let your sorrow and anger consume you. Even the rulers of Arlathan had hard time coming back once they were twisted away from their original purpose, and the results were often catastrophic. If you are lost, I don't know if the Dalish can raise another spirit like you ever again."  
"How? What can I do, Solas?", Lavellan asked, her eyes filled with tears again.  
"I don't have advice to offer, lethallan. Each spirit is slightly different, and this has never been my strongest point.", Solas said, feeling the barb of irony. He could tell that changing her name into Viciousness would probably not help, but he didn't have much else to offer. Time helped, as well, but she was not immortal and could not wait for thousand years for hurt to pass.  
Lavellan drew a deep breath, and Fade bent to her will, creating Keeper's staff for her outstretched hand.  
"It is Keeper's duty to remember, and I am a Keeper, now, although I have no clan.", she said. "Will you come with me, Solas? I prefer not do this alone."  
"Of course, lethallan.", he promised, following her deeper into Fade.


	10. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan's assassin skills are horribly disappointing. Fen'Harel's hunt isn't any better.

The Inquisitor washed the blood from her hands and smiled. It was gratifying work compared to closing Rifts and fighting the Venatori. Turning to new mother and her husband, she said:  
"If you need me for anything during the night, do not hesitate to ask. I will come again in the morning to see how you are doing."  
"Thank you, thank you so much.", the elven woman said, holding the baby in her arms.  
"There is no need to thank me, I was happy to help. A child is a great blessing for the People.", Lavellan smiled.  
When she was leaving, the father stopped her and asked shyly:  
"We don't know how it is supposed to be done, but.. We would like to name her in right way. Not in the Chantry. Can you do it, Keeper?"  
Lavellan was taken by surprise. She looked at man's bare, honest face which had never been decorated by vallaslin, and for a moment, she was near tears. But she smiled instead, understanding the fragility behind question, and replied softly:  
"I would be honored to do it, Fendriel."

Returning from servant's quarters, she crossed through the garden. The night was quiet and beautiful and she stopped at Therion's tree.  
"Mythal, All-Mother, I thank for your blessings tonight. A new hope has been born, a daughter for the People. May the Creators guide her steps."  
Lavellan's prayer had barely left her lips, when she felt a dull stab between her ribs. A hand was placed on her mouth to stop her scream, and she reached for her magic, flinging ice towards her attacker as she bit the hand.  
"Dead.", Zevran's disapproving voice said as he dodged the spell and threw them both on the ground. She was the bottom one, of course.  
"You are too trusting, my little dove. It was a perfect chance for assassination.", he sighed, laying on top of her. "One stab with poisoned dagger would be enough even for you. You are lucky I only used the hilt for my demonstration ."  
"You bruised my ribs.", Lavellan said unhappily. "And now you are suffocating me."  
"I'm merely making sure you listen.", Zevran grinned. He did have nice eyes. "It's rare chance to catch you without entourage. Considering your carelessness, it is a good thing, but it limits the topics of discussion. I'm most interested in hearing what is your goal in all of this."  
"My goal?", Lavellan looked at him warily.  
"Everyone has one. Vivienne looks for power, hoping that serving the Inquisition will strengthen her position. Cassandra and Leliana see chance to reform Chantry after the order has been restored. Dorian wants to champion for Tevinter. Varric looks for a new story. Noble goals, but they don't interest me. Your goal is the reason why you practice midwifery in servant's quarters in the middle of the night.", Zevran said, leaning on his elbow and following the lines of her vallaslin with his free hand. "You could be doing it to enhance your reputation, but those people do not usually stop to offer thanks for mother goddess when nobody sees, or educate little children in secret before sunrise. I'm curious to hear more."  
"All right. I will tell you everything if you roll off.", Lavellan grunted.  
"I didn't expect this to be so easy.", Zevran sighed. "I have to teach you how to resist torture. Your performance as an assassin has been a horrible disappointment, so far."  
  
 

\--

 

Dread Wolf was hunting in the Fade tonight. He felt the wind blowing from east, and stalked quietly through Skyhold garden, to be sure his prey would not catch his scent. The frustration was boiling in his blood. His hunt had failed twice already, and he knew he was being avoided by purpose. It irked him considerably. Once he had bent world to his will. He would not be outplayed by a Bog Unicorn again. This time, he would succeed.

He jumped softly down from the battlements, grateful for the dark night which hid him from the looks of the curious. The scent of dead horse was strong and fresh near the secluded corner behind Herald's rest; it had been here recently. But when Fen'Harel lunged forwards, ready to catch the secretive creature and finally get answers for his questions, he stumbled on a hole someone had dug on the ground. It had not been there yesterday, no. But it stank of bog water, and now his paws were wet with it.  
"Fenedhis!", he cursed. He heard the horse neighing at him from the distance and snarled at it.

 

\--

 

"My keeper and I shared an opinion on elves and humans. The world is filled with humans, and the choices they make effect us, yet rarely we have anything to say about it. It is partially our own fault, because we are scattered people. The days of Arlathan, or Dales, are long gone, and our race does not have anything to unite under. We continue to be Dalish, city elves, or don't want to be elves at all like Sera.", Lavellan said as she sat by the fireplace with Zevran. "With each passing year, our numbers grow less. My clan was slaughtered, and it has been fewer than five years since Hawke killed all of Clan Sabrae. It should be a horror story to be remembered for years, but it has became almost ordinary. Nobody bats an eye on purging of an alienage, either."  
"It is the way of the world, little dove. Only the strong survive.", Zevran said. "The blight of elves is an unfortunate thing, but I doubt anything can be done about it."  
"There you are mistaken. I'm not talking about rebuilding Dales, or making us all Dalish with vallaslin. What elves need is a place where we could live in safety. That is what we all lack. The Dalish wander, because we have no other option, and children in alienages die like flies. We had safety when we had our own nation, but we couldn't keep it because we weren't willing to stay in contact with humans. Everyone fears what they don't know. The Exalted March to Dales was a revenge for elves refusing to help during the Second Blight, some say. They might be right. But it was hundreds of years ago, and we have changed since then.", Lavellan said. Her face was more alive than Zevran had ever seen it, shining with eagerness and idealism which didn't seen to suit the Inquisitor he knew.

 

"So you want a place where elves could live in peace, but humans were not kept away?", Zevran asked, wrinkling his forehead.  
"Yes. It is something our people could unite under. Those who have lived among humans, like you or Sera, could manage the commercial and diplomatic relations. You know more of shemlen world than we do. The Dalish know how to fight. We would have soldiers. We could teach all elven children instead of sending them away to Circles. It would be hard to unite two segregated groups, but it could be done. I have done it, here.", Lavellan said fiercely. "Today I delivered a city elf baby, whose father called me Keeper and asked me to name her. And I'm the Herald of fucking Andraste!"  
Zevran's laugh was bright and real.  
"It does sound much better that way. You should take it as official title."  
"Cassandra would have a heart attack. But bear with me for a while longer. You were with Hero of Ferelden. You know the whole area of Brecilian Forest was granted to Dalish almost decade ago, yet nobody lives there. It is still ours, and with all that I've done to help King Alistair, I could claim it, use Inquisition's resources to help people settle in. But I can't lead that movement. If I did, it would be no better than Dales. Humans don't want to see an elf with glowy hand as a leader of new nation. It stinks of ancient history, frightening magic and Dalish savagery. But when I find someone who can do it, I will use everything in my power to help her. Only way for elves to gain power is to gain it in human world, and I hold more than most human rulers in Free Marches, now. The heroism is fleeting thing, however. After Corypheus has been dealt with, and rifts have been closed, the Inquisition is expected to lay down it's arms and I will lose what I have. I must find my leaders before that.", Lavellan said. "Hero of Ferelden held enough power in her day to be granted a third homeland for our people, but now she is quickly becoming just another tale. Hawke was once a champion, then just a refugee running from Chantry. I will lose this, but I want to do something while I still can. Give our people a place where they didn't have to fear. I don't care if they want a Chantry or statues of gods in their village. Have both, if they wish. But they should be free."

 

Zevran was silent for a long time.  
"You are going to need an assassin. Not so much for killing, but to keep you from being killed. What can I say? I'm a sucker for Dalish women and their hopeless causes.", he said, smiling, and offered his hand. "I'm yours. And I have an idea for your quiet rebellion, because I'm particularly fantastic that way. Have your advisors told you about Orlesian bard, Briala? She is leading elven spy network and trying to reap gains from civil war, playing at all sides at once. You and she should have a chat, and I think my contacts might be able to arrange it."

\--

 

"I don't understand why you want to hide in my room in the middle of the night.", Lavellan said to Boggy. "What's wrong with being in stables? And how did you even get here without anyone seeing you?"  
Boggy did not answer. It was sulking.  
"If you insist on staying here, you must be quiet, and you must not let them notice you. Josephine will never let me heard end of it if she finds out I let you sleep on my bed while I sleep on the balcony.", Lavellan said, turning her back at Boggy and pulling the fade touched wolf furs up to her neck.  
Boggy neighed and pushed the double doors shut. It greatly disapproved the smell of wolf.


	11. Dalish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has everything. Frilly cakes. Tricking Josephine. Impossible tasks for suitors. Dalish. Fighting. Wolves. Venatori. One of Lavellan's secrets. Loss. And love.
> 
> Hide in quiet corner with your computer, lock the door and enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your listening pleasure for the last part: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFMt6HHM1MI

"So, my lady Inquisitor.", Josephine said as they had nicely settled to enjoy little cakes and tea next evening. "Thanks to your efforts in Exalted Plains and Emerald Graves, we have been invited to Halamshiral, and I suddenly realized I haven't remembered to ask if you dance?"  
"Dance?", Lavellan said, sounding amused. "As naked in the moonlight, like humans think?"  
"I meant formal ballroom dancing. It is common for nobles in Orlais, and certainly expected from you in ball. A fluent dancer might advance herself much in the game."  
"No. Like you probably expected, Dalish do not hold balls. But dancing for power is not unfamiliar concept."  
"Truly?", Josephine asked curiously.  
"No. The moonlight cliche is not so far away from truth as one might think.", Lavellan said calmly, choosing one of little pink cakes from the tray.  
"I will arrange instruction for you, then. Speaking of Dalish culture in general, I was wondering if I could ask you about few things.", Josephine mentioned. "Like Dalish courting traditions. It is typical for human nobles to make alliances through marriage, and as the power of Inquisition grows, there will be offers made."  
"Dalish courting traditions?", Lavellan repeated as the door opened.  
"I'm sorry if I disturb, but I heard you were meeting Josephine over cakes and tea. Tea is not advisable if we are heading back to Emerald Graves and Elgar’nan’s Bastion today.", Solas said, sitting on empty chair and reaching for Lavellan's tea cup. He moved it on the edge of the table and considered for a moment the selection of frilly little cakes, taking the most outrageous one.  
"I almost forgot.", Lavellan smiled at him. "It was good from you to remind me. Where were we?"  
"I asked about Dalish courting traditions.", Josephine said.  
"Yes.", Lavellan said, crossing her fingers under her chin. "I can tell you some general details, I guess. After Dalish youth gets his vallaslin, he must prove himself to be able to support, provide and protect before he can bond. Hunters do it by killing a predator and presenting the pelt to his partner. On clan level, it is a necessity because children must have parents who are able to provide and care for them."  
"So you basically gate relationships to ensure clan's survival?", Josephine asked. "You spoke about hunters. What about mages, like you?"  
"Keeper's first duty is to Dalish.", Lavellan said slowly, clearly considering how much to tell. "We take measures to be sure all clans have Keeper and First, and those bloodlines which carry strong magic will continue to do so."  
"It sounds very fascinating, albeit vague.", Josephine offered.  
"Would you prefer if I told you that all Dalish clans meet every ten years and beget the next generation of mages?", Lavellan asked, smiling mischievously. "Humans do like stories about sex magic rituals."  
Josephine almost choked on her cake.  
"Your sense of humor is.. a bit much, your Worship."  
It was then, when Solas noticed that although Lavellan's lips smiled, her eyes didn't.  
"Of course, finding anyone suitable would be an impossible task even for you, all things considered.", Solas noted and took a green cake decorated with little chocolate pearls and lace made of sugar. Inventing these cakes were one of the few things shemlen did better than elves of old.  
"What do you mean, Solas?", Josephine turned to him.  
"Any human suitors are obviously out. Elves should not mate with humans."  
"They are hairy.", Lavellan wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And the smell. The smell is absolutely horrible. Don't they realize that sweat sticks to all those hairs in their armpits? Varric, at least, has enough sense to air his chest."  
"I assure you, it must have been a single accidental meeting with one of the soldiers, perhaps. Noblemen do have higher standards of personal hygiene.", Josephine assured.  
"No, they don't.", Lavellan and Solas answered at the same time.  
"Are you claiming that all humans smell bad?", Josephine asked, her eyes widening.  
Looking slightly embarrassed, Lavellan nodded.  
"They do. I can't help it."  
"Carrying around a pouch of fresh herbs helps a lot in close quarters.", Solas mentioned.  
Josephine looked at elves, and noted they both actually carried a small pouches on their belts. She had gotten accustomed to lovely, fresh scent of elfroot and rashvine whenever she was around Lavellan, and Solas smelled of spindleweed. The comment could explain the compulsive clipping of herbs Cassandra always complained about after a mission. Looking at their extremely polite faces, Josephine felt a sudden need to have a bath. And a razor at her disposal. This was mortifying. But she was the ambassador of Inquisition, and she pressed forwards.  
"If there was a suitable match who.. did not smell, would you be open to consider it, at least?"  
"If our ambassador could find an elf who was worthy of you, you should consider it.", Solas said lightly to Lavellan. "Unfortunately, the Dalish seem to produce heroines, while the achievements of your men leave much to hope for in comparison. The courting rules from Elvhenan can easily be applied to this case, however."  
"Truly?", Josephine asked, feeling a bit hopeful.  
"They are extremely clear and easy to follow. First, all slaves require their patron's permission, while free elves may choose whom they wish. Second, for a somniari like our Inquisitor, a suitor must offer a crown made of stars and shadows. Literally. He must also battle her guardian spirit to gain acceptance. Which means Boggy. If she chooses to pick up his crown, they will spend an year and a day enjoying each other and strengthening their bond in seclusion. Only after that the bond will be recognized.", Solas explained  
"If you find anyone willing to fulfill those requirements, I promise to consider his offer.", Lavellan announced. "As a Keeper, I can't simply dismiss the traditions of our People."  
"I must think how to convey your requirements to prospective noblemen, your Worship.", Josephine said weakly.  
"Wonderful.", Lavellan said. "We will leave you to work, then."

 

"You are a marvel, Solas.", she giggled as they walked together towards the stables. "I believe Josephine will not present me with another human noble after that."  
"By the time we come back from Elgar'nan's Bastion, all members of Inner Circle have been forced to bath daily to protect our delicate senses.", Solas mused.  
"And then we'll go to refresh the herb stocks anyway.", Lavellan's eyes sparkled with glee. "I think we need to inform Zevran that humans smell. Cole, of course, doesn't since he is a spirit."  
"I didn't take you for a trickster, lethallin.", Solas said with appreciation.  
"Nobody believes it about you, either.", she replied, "and you came up with that hopeless list for suitors. Now I can never find anyone, and it is your fault."  
"I'm awfully broken about it.", Solas said.  
"You liar."

\--

  
"So, my little dove, I have heard rumors of a dragon in Emerald Graves. Are they true?", Zevran started a conversation as their little group reached the edge of Dales.  
"Yes. I wanted to have a chance to study it closer. I haven't seen that particular type before.", Lavellan replied.  
"You are going to spend your time searching old ruins and laying in a bush, watching a dragon?", Zevran asked.  
"Of course.", Lavellan gave him a questioning look. "What could be more interesting? Dragons and ruins are fascinating."  
"I can think of several things we could do in a bush", Zevran started, and Solas fumed silently behind him.  
"Is it really possible to string a man by his ears and force him to eat his own head?", Cole asked from nobody in particular. "It sounds very violent."

 

Their banter was interrupted by a sound of galloping halla coming towards their path. Lavellan lifted her hand to stop, and turned to watch to west. It was a halla, carrying a sole rider. A girl, whose vallaslin was still fresh on her face. She was bleeding over the animal's white fur.  
"Hahren, please help us.", she begged Lavellan who had jumped down from the saddle the moment they saw her. "We were heading towards Elgar'nan's Bastion, when a group of odd shemlen soldiers attacked us. They have mages. Our hunters cannot hold them off for long. Our Keeper said there was a group of Dalish at the Bastion, who could help us."  
Lavellan's face had drained deathly white.  
"You are clan Alerion, are you not?", she asked.  
"Yes, hahren. Please help us, they are not far. I beg you.", the girl almost wept. Cole was already on her side, trying to stop the flow of blood.  
"They must be Venatori.", Zevran said. "We have to go to camp and bring soldiers."  
"No!", Lavellan said, shaking her head. Her eyes were wild and frightened, full of rage. "It will take too long. They need help, now. _I will not see this happening again_."

She lunged forwards, and her form blurred. Solas blinked, and next second, he saw a wolf taking scent before disappearing behind trees. It was yellow-brown, not like the black wolves around here.  
"That was.. unsettling.", Zevran said weakly. "Reminded me of someone I used to know."  
"Take care of the girl and follow us as soon as you can.", Solas commanded. He could not resist flashing his teeth to Zevran when he shapeshifted to wolf form in front of their eyes. The Antivan's colorful curse was still echoing in his ears when he went after Lavellan.

 

 

The camp was not far, but the Dalish were losing the fight. Solas saw Lavellan sneaking in the shadows of forest and then jumping on a Venatori mage from behind. They fell on the ground and she went straight for the throat, ripping viciously with her teeth. The blood spattered everywhere. Solas smelled the blood and growled, taking the one aiming a crossbow at Lavellan.  
"Don't shoot the wolves.", Keeper shouted, his voice frantic. He was dark-haired, slim man, in his forties. Solas did not like his smell.

The wolf was not the most practical form against armored sellswords, but it was quick, nimble and the heightened senses were useful. It was easy to recognize the familiar smell of another wolf she had first scented months ago, when Solas started teaching her how to dream. She had doubted ever since, but now she knew.  
Lavellan was envious of Solas' magnificent wolf. It was ferocious, black creature, and she had trouble resisting a strong impulse to pull her tail down between her legs and crouch down on the ground with ears and muzzle lowered. That was the downside of shapeshifting. One got all the traits of the animal, including the ardent wish for passive submission when facing an alpha male of the pack. It was a problem she had not expected, and it was clear from the position of his ears, tilted forwards, that he rather enjoyed the sensation. With an evil glee. Dread Wolf take him, Lavellan cursed in her mind while they tore through another Venatori archer.  
Then she found the scent she had been looking for. A tingle of magic, and fear, and the sweat of child's smaller body.

 

The boy cried with exhaustion and fear when he tried to hold the barrier, but the shemlen soldier was getting closer with each step. He was playing with the boy, now, pushing his sword slowly through his magic. Inch by inch, it tore through his barrier, and Enethriel wept. He couldn't see his father, or any of the hunters, they were somewhere in the fray full of shouts and magic and sounds of battle. Shemlen's dirty, bearded face smiled when the barrier broke down, and his sword slashed. Enethriel closed his eyes, trying to face his death like a man, when something pushed him down and there was an yelp of pain.

It was a wolf standing between Enethriel and the shemlen, and shemlen's sword had slashed animal's side open. In front of his frightened eyes, the wolf changed, and a woman stood at it's place. She was one of the People, beautiful and terrifying at the same time, and her aura was crackling with magic.  
"Ar tu na'din", she said to shemlen, and although Enethriel did not know the words, they sang in his blood with promises of ferocious retribution. She would kill the shemlen.

He looked wide-eyed as the woman slammed her left hand against shemlen's armor and a rift opened inside the man. He screamed and twisted but woman held on, her eyes cold as winter.  
"Do not look, da'len.", she said, but Enethriel could not look away. She pulled her hand backwards and the shemlen exploded in pieces, bits of Fade flying everywhere.

The woman turned to him, and Enethriel saw the vallaslin of Mythal on her forehead. Maybe she was Mythal, a goddess coming to save him. His father was the Keeper, but he couldn't open Rifts inside people. Nobody could.  
"Are you hurt?", she asked.  
Enethriel could not answer, could not find the words, so he just shook his head.  
"Good. Stay behind me.", the woman said, and he felt her barriers enclosing them both. They were good and strong. She drew power from the Fade and made the shemlen burn with _vengeance_.

 

It was hard to understand they had won. Enethriel was still dazed, not understanding what had happened, when a great black wolf walked to them. The woman bent down to scratch it behind the ears, favoring her left side. The wolf shifted, changing into flat ear man who was holding mage's staff. Old Delanna called them flat ears, but First said she was wrong. What word to use? He was not one of the People, although he had fought for them.  
"You have been hurt.", the man said. "You smell of blood."  
"It was worth it.", woman said, and only then Enethriel remembered the wolf taking the strike meant for him. He was being a horrible host. They had Mythal in their midst, and she was bleeding.  
"My father can tend to you.", he finally got his mouth open, although his voice sounded weak and frightened in his own ears. "We have binding cloth and elfroot paste in our aravel."

 

"You should not have brought him here. Or taught him to shapeshift. It is Keeper's magic.", the Keeper said, looking at Lavellan who was pale with pain as he spread the elfroot paste over the wound.  
"I have taught him nothing, Zarel.", Lavellan said defiantly. "Solas is a better mage than either of us, and I doubt there is anything I could teach him. I will not see him treated with scorn. He is my friend and you asked for my help. _He fought for you_."  
"My apologies, then.", Zarel said, not looking at Solas. "We have many wounded, and I would be grateful if your companion could lend assistance. There are things I must discuss with Keeper, in private."  
Everything in elf's manner made Solas grit his teeth. Maybe it was the way he never addressed Solas directly, or the arrogance of Dalish, dismissing him like a child.  
"I will be outside if you need me.", he said, reaching to comb a bloody curl away from Lavellan's face and tuck it behind her ear. She closed her eyes for a second, leaning to his touch, did not flinch away. The Keeper noticed, giving Solas a dark look. Satisfied, Solas turned away and left the aravel.

There were many wounded to care for, but nothing serious. One of the women said it was Mythal's blessing they had arrived when they did, and Solas did not bother to correct. Dalish would not be happy to know they had Fen'Harel to thank for their salvation.  
After most of the wounded were taken care of, Solas' attention was drawn to young boy, maybe eight years old, whom Lavellan had saved from the soldiers. The boy looked dazed, still, like a mage after exhausting his mana reserves.  
"Is he all right?", Solas asked from First, a young woman who was marked for Sylaise.  
"Enethriel, Keeper's son? He is probably just feeling unwell. He came into his magic just a summer ago, and exhausted himself trying to fight the shemlen soldiers. A good boy."  
"It is a cruel age which forces children to fight.", Solas said, looking at the boy. He had dark hair, like Keeper, but something on his face was achingly familiar.  
"It is so.", First agreed, when Lavellan stepped out from Keeper's aravel and walked to boy.

"Da'len, there is something I wish you to have.", Lavellan said. She took the staff off her back and placed it in boy's hands.  
"For me? I don't know what to say, hahren.", boy replied, stammering and surprised. Solas saw it, then. Although his features were different, the look of astonishment on his face was hauntingly familiar.  
"Wield it with honor like today, Enethriel, and you make our people proud.", Lavellan replied. She pressed a kiss on boy's forehead, like a blessing. Keeper watched from the door of his aravel, his arms crossed over his chest, but said nothing.  
"Dareth shiral, da'len.", Lavellan said and then turned away, her slender form resolute. Mounting the hart, Inquisitor led her companions away from Dalish camp.

As soon as they were out from hearing distance, Lavellan let out a pained breath and bowed her head. She was crying.  
"You did your duty for People, they said, the day his father came to take him away. You did well, he said, looking at the baby. But she did not feel glory or happiness. Her empty arms ached for days, and she cried until Keeper came and made her sleep.", Cole said sadly. "I am so sorry, Lavellan. I wish I could help."

\--

Fade was different that night. Solas slipped in easily, looking for her, and found her from forest's edge. She was watching, dry-eyed, an old memory of hers. There was a Dalish clan gathered around fire. Lavellan herself was there too. Her image was much younger woman, with same elaborate hairdo, who was sitting on the grass and playing with a dark-haired baby. She hid behind her hands and peeked at the baby, playing the old game. The baby giggled, beaming at his mother's face.  
"He used to call me mamae, not hahren.", Lavellan said. "He learned it few days before his father came for him."  
Solas did not know what to say. He was familiar with carrying old wounds and living with his ghosts, but it had been long time since he had witnessed naked pain in someone close to him. Unable to find right words, he simply wrapped his arms around Inquisitor, holding her close. It was right thing to do, because memory disappeared, and he felt Lavellan pressing her face against his shoulder.  
"I'm sorry, lethallan.", he whispered gently.  
"There is no need.", she said quietly, letting go of him. "It is the way of Dalish. It is merely an old wound, which aches sometimes because I am not strong enough to keep from picking it open. My Keeper always warned me against letting my emotions rebel, because then it would be harder to do it again."  
"You weren't lying when you told Josephine about Dalish courting.", Solas said.  
"No.", Lavellan's lips curved in dry smile. "It sounds too odd to be true, doesn't it? But you must understand why, Solas. Our people face extinction. Each year, there are less and less elves. Whole clans die by human hands, or an alienage gets purged. It is duty of Keeper to keep the clan alive, and we need our mages for that. I was taught that Keepers usually come from ancient bloodlines, and if you mate two of them together, they usually beget a child strong in magic, giving future generations a fighting chance. But there is only one Keeper and his First in clan, to protect the clan from templars. Our Keepers can't bond, because their duty is to clan, but we cannot lose the magic either. So..this was the solution Dalish came up with, generations ago."  
"It is no better than slavery.", Solas replied fiercely. "Elves should not be used to breed magic like animals, like horses!"  
"What is the other option?", Lavellan asked, looking him in the eyes. "If you and I decided to move in a little cottage in the outskirts of civilization, furthest from people one can live without the protection of a clan, and have children, they would grow up to be mages. Raising a mage child is a demanding task, which would require one of us entirely, while the other was left to make a living. How many years you think we would have before we had templars knocking on our door or villagers blaming us for spreading some illness? Barely enough to have one child, and chances to survive would be meager even then."  
"It would not end so.", Solas said. "Templars are not accustomed facing a mage with any talent. We would fend them off easily."  
"Why is that? Because both of us grew up and learned our magic in safety. We had enough time to grow to full power, to devote ourselves to magic. Every hour spent hunting food is one hour not spent learning to control one's power.", Lavellan stated. "The clan will defend the Keeper to last breath, and we must pay for their sacrifice. Otherwise it would be like Tevinter, the hunters just slaves for magister. We give up our children and our families, but it is a price which must be paid for equal service."  
"Sometimes I hate your arguments.", Solas replied grimly. "And this age which makes such measures necessary."  
"Do you hate me, then, for being a Dalish? For having a child with man I had never met before and giving my son away when I was told to do so? He was a Keeper, already, fully in command of his magic, while I had just became First.", Lavellan's eyes were too bright.  
"I could not hate you, lethallan.", Solas shook his head. "I have done much, and worse, in my day. I merely grieve for your loss, for it is a loss, even if it was done in the name of duty. I am too familiar with those to not to recognize one when I see it."  
"I know.", Lavellan said simply, but did not ask.

 

Solas was last to wake up. He felt for empty place beside him, but Lavellan was gone.  
"She rose before sunrise, and claimed that she would go fishing for breakfast.", Zevran said. "I figured that she probably needed some time alone. It's always the silent ones who have the most interesting secrets."  
"It would be best if you did not tell the others.", Cole said eagerly. "It hurts her to speak about it. And she is afraid that bad people would try to kill him if they knew."  
"Her secret is safe with me.", Zevran said. "But I find myself rather perpexled, since my job description has suddenly changed. I was under impression that the corpse horse followed her because she was a virgin, which she evidently isn't."  
"Bog Unicorn is inhabited by Spirit of Purity, which is drawn to Lavellan.", Solas replied. "Our ignorant companions never stopped to think what it actually means. They jumped to conclusions."  
"Purity of will? Purity of blood? Purity of.. magic? Or simply an absence of vice?", Cole asked.  
"All of them, perhaps. An ability to treat others with kindness and respect, wisdom in her judgements. Having strong values, and following them. An unique, marvelous spirit, something unseen this age.", Solas said.  
"Yes, yes, but she still has gorgeous ass.", Zevran noted. "I'm not displeased. Virgins are overrated in my opinion, and I should know. I grew up in a whorehouse."  
Solas grimaced with distaste, looking at Antivan.  
"Get your mind off the gutter, for once."  
"Why? It is pleasant place to be, and since you are too spiritual to do anything about your infatuation, it's free range. We live in uncertain times, my friend. It is not wrong to search for solace from another, even if one can't make promises to stay forever. She is not the type to demand them, since she has already put her duty before her happiness. Is it better to die alone, than be happy and bring happiness even for a short while?"  
Solas was taken aback by Zevran's words. After a moment of silence, Solas got up.  
"I should see if she needs help."  
"An excellent idea, my friend. She went that way.", Zevran said, nodding towards west.  
After Solas disappeared among trees, Zevran took a dried meat and cheese from his backpack.  
"The fish breakfast is officially cancelled, now.", he told Cole. "Do you want some?"  
"What do you mean?", Cole asked, not understanding.  
"Sometimes people just need a little push.", Antivan announced, smiling as he bit the cheese.

 

Lavellan was sitting by the stream, not paying much attention to fish swimming in the clear water. Solas sat next to her, and for a moment, they existed in companionable silence.  
"Wolf is not your true form, I suppose?", he broke the quiet.  
"No. I can't make a wolf as magnificent as yours.", Lavellan said, her lips curving into amused smile. "My true form, the one which is easiest to take, feels rather ironic in comparison. I make an excellent halla."  
"I would be pleased to see it.", Solas invited.  
"What if I turn into big, blighted spider instead and overwhelm you like I did to Loghain?", Lavellan asked.  
"It is a possibility.", Solas admitted. "But I have been thinking, lethallan. If a man has a duty he must eventually follow alone, and only a little to give to a woman, is it right to even try if he knows it will hurt them both in a long run?"  
"If you were that man, Solas, and I was the woman, I would say that I respect you, and it means also respecting any duty you have chosen to carry. I would expect the same promise from you.", Lavellan said, looking him seriously. "Sometimes one must let go to become what one must be. But if only perfect people loved, the world would be dim and empty place, and I do not wish it. Even red butterflies can find happiness during the day, although they die before evening. I fail to see why elves would be worse than butterflies."  
"It would be embarrassing, indeed. All our glorious history, reduced to being worse than red butterflies.", Solas mused, a warmth growing inside his heart. He stood up, offering Lavellan his hand. She took it, lacing her fingers with his. Her serious expression crumbled into breathless joy when Solas pulled her closer, kissing her fiercely. He could taste her smile, and it spread to his heart as he held her.


	12. Drawing dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan discusses shapeshifting with Solas, Zevran tries to teach Cole the value of money and Keepers face the unpleasant truth about the Exalted March on the Dales.

"Was your Keeper a shapeshifter?", Solas asked from Lavellan one day they lounged lazily in the sun, supposedly watching the dragon from a top of a nearby cliff. It was a good place, well hidden from the sight, and only way to get up there was to shapeshift and fly. The Inquisitor was laying on her stomach and doodling the outlines of dragon on a parchment. It was not a painting, merely a study on how the muscles moved in different positions.  
"No. I've heard that some clans still have shapeshifters, but my Keeper never had interest to learn. She was all action, flurrying around the camp like a wisp, and I guess the observation required even for the simplest forms was too boring for her. I was taught by a friend, who was taught by her mother. My friend, Morrigan, came to our clan after the Blight. She was with child at the time and we took her in. We were in Orlais then, not far from Skyhold. She was not pleased at all to be sharing an aravel with me, stating that I should expect no bonding simply because we were both expecting, and I told her she was a brat who used her mother's reputation to demand hospitality.", Lavellan smiled as she sketched the outline of the dragon. "We hated each other for month or two. After that, we became friends over shared love of old magic and wondrous things. It is hard to keep one's mouth shut and not to offer suggestions when the person sharing your living space is trying to unlock an artifact. She stayed with us until her boy was three, and I haven't seen her since."  
"You speak very warmly of her.", Solas noted. Morrigan was not elven name, but the Dalish did have peculiar naming conventions.   
"After Zarel came for his son, she tried her best to distract me. She was awful at comforting people, and I didn't want to be comforted, so she lured me with ruins instead.", Lavellan said. "We went on a quest, hunting for answers from Brecilian Forest to Deep Roads and finally to a place where dragons go to die. It was fascinating. All those places were full of ruins, whispers of old, and I were to return there now, the things I could dream there.."  
"It was a stroke of luck that Imshael did not think to offer you ruins, vhenan.", Solas shook his head lightly. "It was easy for you to decline riches, power and virgins, but ruins? I shudder to think of it."  
"I don't need Imshael for that.", Lavellan said smugly. "I've finally figured out the location of a temple of Dirthamen based on those veilfire runes we found from Exalted Plains. We could go there next."  
"Your advisors will throw a fit if you miss the peace negotiations for Dirthamen's temple. On the other hand, it is not that different from Halamshiral. Both places are full of power, secrets and death. The empress is simply more fashionable about it.", Solas mused.  
"Are you saying Dirthamen wasn't fashionable?"  
"Depends on whom you would ask from.", Solas said. "But you were talking about how you learned to shapeshift."  
"Oh, yes. I started with easiest animals, but Morrigan could turn into a dragon, so I wanted to learn it, too. It took ages to get the back legs of dragon right. I'm still not quite sure how my dragon compares to a natural one since it is a copy from another shapeshifter.", Lavellan said.   
"It's curious she could transform into a dragon.", Solas mentioned. "It is not an easy form. In the days of Elvhenan, it was a reserved only to gods and their chosen. Taking it was a high treason."  
"It sounds rather...petty.", Lavellan said finally. "A bit like the stories Keepers remember, but can't teach anyone but their First."  
"Such as?", Solas asked, curious.  
"Solas, there are at least dozen reasons why I would not take you as my First.", Lavellan said strictly. "You don't even like the Dalish, and I doubt you would think that a lifetime of servitude is a good trade for few stories you could not hear otherwise."  
"That is an admirable thought, vhenan. Hold on to it. Not all knowledge is worth of the cost.", Solas said.  
"I'm doomed anyway.", Lavellan mentioned absently, drawing the long bones of dragon wings. "If the gods come back, having a part of a foci permanently embedded inside my hand is probably much worse offense than taking the form of a dragon."  
Her back turned, she didn't see the flash of worry in his eyes. Pushing all thoughts forcefully aside, Solas closed his eyes and kissed her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of elfroot and rashvine. She tensed for a moment, stopped breathing, and he smiled against her skin, savoring the moment. Finding a sweet spot, he grazed it with his teeth, and was rewarded by a shaking line going straight over the edge of the paper.  
"One should not discard the gifts each day can offer.", Lavellan murmured. "I think I'm done with drawing, for a moment."  
She took a hold on him, rolling them smoothly over. Taking the lead, she bent down to kiss him. Solas took an advantage of situation and pulled the pins which held her hair. The sunlight shone through it and for a moment, Fen'Harel was mesmerized by a sight brighter than even the lights of Arlathan.

 

"This is almost... heartwarming.", Zevran sniffed as he cut the mushrooms for soup. "Even if we have to go hungry in the name of love."  
"Love can make people hungry, but it makes them happy, too.", Cole nodded.  
Because Cole disliked killing and Zevran was practically useless outside civilization, their little group had ran out of supplies two days ago. They had been reduced to eating deep mushrooms because Zevran recognized those (he used them usually to make poison), but neither Solas or Lavellan had noticed it yet. Whenever they appeared back to camp, they simply ate what they were served and fell asleep. Last night Cole had remarked how watching dragons must be very exhausting, and Zevran had tried to hold back his laughter so hard that he ended up sneezing mushroom soup from his nose. Cole had stared at him wide-eyed, telling that he had never seen someone to do that before.  
"They are coming, I think.", Cole said suddenly. "It is hard to say. I cannot sense him as well as usually, and she has always been too bright. There is a slice of new fear, and an old hurt, but golden curtain fell over it, hiding it from his view."  
"If you only could make those things easier to understand, you could have a profitable future in Crows.", Zevran remarked. "Or maybe you could tell fortunes."  
"Money is cold. I like trees.", the boy replied. "She likes flowers."

"Good evening, my friends. I hope you had an excellent day drawing dragons.", Zevran greeted them. What an euphemism. He kept his face carefully neutral as he tasted the mushroom soup and added a dash of salt. Inwardly, he was congratulating himself for earning 342 gold pieces and a pair of excellent, matching daggers Leliana had promised him for finished job. There was no mistaking the glow of relaxed happiness.  
"Before I forget, Zarel dropped by. He was not pleased to hear you weren't here. Taven, someone's First, wants to see you and him at Elgar'nan's Bastion tonight to discuss his findings.", Zevran said and started handing out the plates.  
"I hope it isn't personal.", Lavellan grimaced. "He already nagged about my hair and not wearing Keeper's ring. When First becomes Keeper, the hair should be cut short to signify the devotion to duty."  
"Your hair is very pretty.", Cole offered, admiring the flowers worked in sidebraids. "You should keep it that way, flowing free. It's happier when it is not bound."  
"I like it too. It is best that you do not let your artistic talents to become widely known. Otherwise Josephine will keep you fully occupied preparing for the ball.", Lavellan said fondly at Solas.  
"It was common style in my youth.", Solas replied. "Some traditions are worth remembering."  
"You must be positively ancient, then.", Zevran smirked. "Growing up in whorehouse, I have a sharp eye for women's fashion, and that was not around twenty years ago."  
"Antiva isn't the whole world, Zevran.", Lavellan replied, finishing her plate. "But I have to get going. Knowing Zarel and Taven, this might take hours if they start arguing about historical details."  
"We will spend a wonderful evening going through the loot.", Zevran promised. "Cole needs practice. Last time I let him sell the spoils of our adventures, he ended up giving away a perfectly lovely, deadly rune for two bags of bread crumbs."  
"The rune was too sharp. Birds liked the crumbs.", Cole replied.  
"That is exactly why you need practice, young man. You will never be successful in our trade if you don't know the value of money."

 

 

"So the fall of Dales started over a love affair.", Lavellan said numbly, staring at ancient parchment in her hands. "So much destruction."  
"What will I do with this?", Taven asked nervously. "Should it be destroyed? I was always taught that it was the shemlen who started it, Chantry with their missionaries and templars. We were trying to save our own culture and regain immortality by avoiding the quickening brought by shemlen."  
"You can't destroy it.", Zarel said firmly, although he looked shaken. "All knowledge of our past belongs to Dalish as whole."  
"But it will destroy our people if this comes out!", Taven disagreed.  
"Treat this like you would treat forbidden stories.", Zarel advised. "Take the parchment to Hawin, who will keep it safe."  
"No.", Lavellan shook her head, her voice calm although her emotions weren't. "This is a bitter reveal for us, but we cannot act like we are blameless. Living in a lie gets us nowhere and this writing proves that both sides were at fault, humans and elves. Our people should learn the truth, but so should humans. If we have to admit they didn't attack us unprovoked, they must learn that they were guilty for war as well."  
"Yes.", Zarel sighed. "You speak words of wisdom, Keeper. There is a lesson in this, which all Dalish must learn. A single action of one Dalish sparked a war which ended up destroying our homeland. We must teach to our people that their choices and destinies are bound to the People as whole, and they must learn to put the welfare of clan before their personal choices."  
"I agree.", Lavellan nodded. "Taven, it was good for you to find it, and you were wise to ask for counsel when you didn't know what was the right action. Keep it safe, and take it to your Keeper. You can present this in Arlathvhen. The soldiers of Inquisition will escort you and your hunters safely back to your clan. You can't take any risks, considering the Venatori are after the ruins of our People for some reason. They already attacked Zarel's clan thinking they were you."  
"Yes, Keeper. Dareth shiral, Keepers.", the First bowed at them both and left the ruins. 

"A gift from Dirthamen, truly.", Zarel said as they stood alone in the halls of Emerald Knights. "Sometimes the blessings of our gods are hard burdens to bear."  
"You couldn't be more right, Zarel.", Lavellan replied. "I wonder what High Keeper will make of this."  
"He has been silent for long, but one of his hunters passed a message for me. The next gathering of clans will be held far in the south of Ferelden, in Arbor Wilds, on Mythal's night next summer.", Zarel mentioned. "The exact location will be revealed to us later. The messenger said that it was of utmost importance that all Keepers and their Firsts will attend."  
"This Arlathvhen will shake the Dalish to a core.", Lavellan said sadly. "The truth about Dales, the secret of eluvians, and now this.", she looked at anchor burning under her skin.   
"If that power came from an elven foci like you explained at the camp, which god it belonged to?", Zarel asked. "And how it has survived all these years? If you wield a power of god, does it change you?"  
"I don't know.", Lavellan said. "So far, I haven't noticed anything different, but if I were changed, would I even know it? My clan could answer that question, had they survived, but now there is nobody who can. I hope someone at Arlathvhen might have answers."


	13. Crown of shadows and stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boggy knows the truth. He knows the game Dread Wolf is playing, and by Creators, he is not going to let it go on!
> 
> Dorian wishes to become blind, Vivienne learns there is a level of elegance below Solas' usual attire, Cassandra squeals for romantic moment and Master Dennet feels relieved. Lavellan is very much in love (and still thinking she can control it) and Solas is unconscious for most of the chapter.

 

"My eyes burn! Oh, Maker, please strike me blind!", Dorian howled as the Inquisitor and her companions rode through the gates of Skyhold.  
"I never expected to actually see anyone sink _below_ the level of unwashed apostate hobo.", Vivienne said incredulously. "Solas, you will not wear that anywhere near me, ever."  
"It might be the best, then, if you remained at Skyhold instead of venturing out. It should not be too uncomfortable for one who wanted mages to be locked away in their towers. This is far superior armor to one I previously owned.", Solas said, looking at yellow-green plaidweave with contentment.  
"But... It hurts my delicate senses! The color! The little backpack! Where did you even find such horrible creation?", Dorian wailed.  
"It's Tevinter fashion, actually.", Solas informed. "One of the Venatori cultists we met in Emerald Graves had it."  
"He must have been struck dead with embarrassment to be seen wearing that in public.", Vivienne sniffed.

 

Boggy looked behind the corner. Yes. There he was, the Dread Wolf who had hunted him, standing in garish outfit and enjoying his play with humans without a worry in the world. Boggy was not pleased, because he knew. How could he not? It was his business to know everything happening to Inquisitor, to protect her and help her to stay true. Dread Wolf had stolen her from the path of her duty. Boggy could feel Lavellan's heart burning with love and the memory of shared afternoon, and even that was not needed. The truth was out there, shouted at everyone with eyes to see. Dread Wolf had braided her hair like lover's bond from the days of Arlathan, worked carefully with flowers of which had different names and meanings for Elvhenan. Inquisitor wore the crown of shadows and stars in front of her friends, and she didn't even know it.  
Bog Unicorn's dead eyes blazed with righteous fury, and he charged.

 

"How could you, Boggy!", Inquisitor asked, her eyes full of hurt as she cradled unconscious Solas protectively in her arms, her anchor hand crackling with power and lifted up against Bog Unicorn.  
"You bit him on the head! And then you trampled him, and tried to run him through with the sword! Solas has done nothing to you! How could you do this to him!", she continued.  
The undead horse was held forcefully in place by Iron Bull and Cassandra who had ran to help the moment they heard the shouting. It was still looking at Solas in bloodthirsty way.  
"I don't want to hear your explanations.", Lavellan hissed. "And no stalking in the Fade, either. You attacked an innocent man, who had done nothing to provoke you. You are sentenced into prison cell and your drinking water will be doused with magebane until I think of suitable punishment for you. You are a bad horse, Bog Unicorn, and I will never forgive you for this."  
Boggy made a pitiful neigh, but nobody cared. Master Dennet looked almost happy when he followed the beast being dragged towards dungeons by Iron Bull. A Boggy in prison meant no Boggy in stables. Or to be more exact, no evil Boggy licking his bare toes with half-rotten tongue to wake him up. It was something Master Dennet could not forgive, or forget.  
"Oh, ma sa'lath.", Lavellan said, looking tearfully at Solas as her magic worked to heal worst of his hurts. "I'm so sorry."  
He stirred slightly, opening his eyes a fraction.  
"Be still, vhenan.", Inquisitor said, caressing his face. "I will tend to your hurts, but you must not move yet. Go to Fade and heal. I will come to you."  
With a pained sound, Solas sank back and his eyes closed again.  
"Cullen, will you carry him to my quarters? Carefully, I'm not yet sure if his skull got fractured.", Inquisitor ordered.

After the Inquisitor, Cullen and his charge had disappeared inside Skyhold, Josephine asked:  
"What was that about? The dead horse went suddenly mad?"  
"It means that fair Leliana owns me my payment.", Zevran announced. "342 golden pieces and a matching pair of magical daggers, thank you."  
"What?", the spymaster turned to smirking elf.  
"You hired me to end Lavellan's solitary existence. Mission accomplished.", Zevran said. "I'm not responsible for your miscalculation that it would banish Bog Unicorn instead of making it even more violent than before.  
"Are you implying that.. Inquisitor and Solas?", Varric asked carefully.  
"I am a professional, and I always aim to bring the best possible value to my clients.", Zevran announced proudly.  
"I knew it!", Cassandra burst into blinding smile. "I knew it! Oh, it was so romantic."  
"You are only one who thinks that getting mauled by dead unicorn is romantic.", Dorian shook his head.  
"No, you fool. Rescuing him was romantic! She stood bravely against the savage enemy, shielding his fallen form, and her hair flowing in the current of magic, with those flowers!", Cassandra explained with fervor of true fan. "Varric, you must take notes before you forget!"  
Looking at the scraps of yellow-green plaidweave on the ground, Vivienne said:  
"At least the beast ruined that horrible outfit beyond repair. Although I would have preferred the Inquisitor to aim her ambition higher than a hedge mage, maybe something could be salvaged from all this. I will give thought on how to make Bog Unicorn more presentable. The creature clearly has a superior fashion sense and properly guided, it could strike fear in the hearts of nobility."

 --

"I've drawn the schematics out the best I can.", she spread the papers out to Dagna and Harritt in the undercroft. "If anything is unclear, please ask. It's been a while since I saw it, so I might have missed some parts."  
"It's fascinating.", the dwarf breathed. "Unlike the armors I've seen."  
"Can you two make it? We can use the anchor to power enchantments.", Lavellan offered.  
"I'm up to challenge.", Harritt said. "Every smith needs to make a masterwork."

 

Lavellan sat quietly in the corner, watching them discuss the details of her sketch, and took advantage of rare quiet moment to think. Before she had became Inquisitor, she had been First of her clan, ready to take the mantle of Keeper after Istimaethoriel. It was something everyone at the Skyhold overlooked, even Solas with his disdain towards the Dalish, but Lavellan had been shaped by her training as strongly as Cassandra by her faith. The most important quality of a good Keeper was her ability to ask questions. A Keeper was protector of elven culture and clan, the preserver of ancient knowledge and more often than not, a detective trying to make sense from nearly unreadable bits and pieces of knowledge.

There were many things about Solas which simply did not add up. Solas spoke fluent elvish, not just few words and phrases like most elves, and he had been happy to share his knowledge with Lavellan. His knowledge of Fade and spirits was unsurpassed, unheard of. The revelation about the orb Corypheus carried; Solas said the foci was of elven origin and some of them were dedicated to specific members of elven pantheon. How could he know that? How could he show her towers of Arlathan, teach her to dream when everyone knew the talent had been dead for generations? Speak riddles about elves and spirits, or make casual remarks about Dirthamen's fashion sense?

She was no fool. It had been Lavellan's curiosity which had made Istimaethoriel to choose her to be trained as First. She had been but a child, then, eight years old. Istimaethoriel had been a good teacher, and Lavellan loved her. She loved the nights they sat together, talking about old stories, or evenings they spent working out the meaning of words on a fractured stone tablet one of the hunters had found. One thing Istimaethoriel had always stressed was the importance of critical thinking. They had a story carved on stone tablet, and could even make out most of the words, but they had no way of knowing the motivations behind it. Had someone written the story in anger? To slander an enemy? Or to support a friend? Had the writer seen what he described, or simply heard about it? Did his words lie, or was it a truth? The questions only began there, and went on forever. It was the responsibility of a Keeper to be sure of what she had before giving the information to clan.  
  
She did not believe Solas lied to her, but she knew he left many things unsaid. Lavellan could not fault him for that, because she had her own secrets, and no intention to share them. Being a good Keeper sometimes demanded skirting around the truth, or deciding whether something could be told to clan at all. It was not done to hurt, but to protect. Not telling about anyone about her past or her child didn't mean she loved her son any less. Enethriel was her duty, and her hurt over losing him was hers alone. She would take another sword between ribs to save him, without a second thought, but she would never acknowledge being his mother or bring him to Skyhold.

For better or worse, she loved him. She loved him for his stories, his magic and his honest enthusiasm. She loved his serious nature and sparks of mischievousness which sometimes leaked through. Lavellan knew he was not an ordinary man, was almost sure that he was not a hedge mage he claimed to be, and strongly suspected that he might be something like High Keeper, a man who had lived for longer time than any others in the clans. Maybe even more than the High Keeper.  
She knew he had suffered a loss, and still felt it keenly, but she didn't know what it had been. He had a unknown duty, which would take him away from her, and it was something Lavellan could not ask about. If she insisted upon it, started asking questions, it would only bring the end quicker, and she wanted to keep what they had, for as long as she could.  
For Lavellan, falling in love and being loved in return was an unexpected blessing, a gift she had never thought to have after her magic manifested and she was told what it would mean. It was so wonderful, so precious that she simply could not make herself feel bad over the temporary nature of their relationship. In her eyes, it didn't make his love less deep or somehow unworthy, more like the opposite. She kept each discussion, each memory carefully stored in her heart. They were her shield against the day when she would be alone, looking at young people of her future clan courting. She would not feel envy or regret, because she too had loved once, greatly.  
Lavellan knew herself well enough to know that when next Arlathvhen came, she would cut her hair, inhale the smoke of mythalwood and dance for the glory of gods with her mage brethren. She would bear another child for the Dalish, form a new clan from those who could be spared and take one of the older mage children to train as her First. After Corypheus would be defeated, Lavellan would return to forests, taking up the duties of Keeper, and leave the Inquisition behind. It was what she was, what she had been raised to be, and abandoning her People was not in her nature. Whoever Solas' people were, or who commanded his loyalties, he was not less worthy in her eyes for following his duty. Never for that, and for now, he was hers. What a lovely thought. It almost bubbled with happiness.

"Making an armor is a happy work, isn't it?", Dagna's bright voice interrupted her thoughts. "It's time for enchantments, Inquisitor!"  
Lavellan stood up, looking at half-finished armor. With Dagna's help, she started weaving magic into pieces, pouring anchor's magic and hers into leather and cloth with precision. As a Dalish Keeper, she knew everything about value of memories, artifacts, and she was determined to create one for him. It would keep him safe, always. She hummed as she worked her magic, and for a short moment, she was truly happy.


	14. Shadows of past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas goes to confront Boggy. Disturbing threats rise from all directions. Dalish medicine tastes like Andruil's cooking, and it's not a compliment.

Solas stood in the undercroft, holding his eyes closed and feeling foolish while smith tugged and adjusted his new armor.  
"Do not peek.", Dagna had demanded. "I want to see your face when we're ready. The Inquisitor made me promise before she left to Orlais."  
It was first day he was up after the battering Bog Unicorn had given to him, and he fully intended to find the spirit and have a word with it. Maybe more than that, because his head had hurt for days, and he was still feeling groggy from medicines Lavellan had given him. Dalish healing was remarkably effective, but not kind. Solas would never again laugh at memory of Loghain's face when Lavellan had forced the man to eat spider ichors. He didn't know what was in that tonic she had made him drink for the pain, and he didn't want to. The stuff worked like miracle, leaving him feeling light and sleepy, but the taste was truly atrocious, reminding him of Andruil's cooking.

"You can open your eyes, now.", Dagna announced. "It looks really great."  
Solas stared at his reflection from the mirror, and for a moment, it felt like a disruption of time. His mouth was dry, and he could barely formulate the words on his tongue. He wanted to ask what, and how, but nothing changed the fact that he was wearing the robes from the time Keepers had not been what they were now, but honored priests of their gods, overseeing the rituals in Dales. These robes had not been seen in Thedas for at least four hundred years.  
"Where did you get this?", he asked instead.  
"The Inquisitor had a design, and we worked a schematic based on that.", Harritt explained, satisfied with his work. "She was worried if she had remembered all the details right, but I think it came out mighty fine. It's a masterwork, and well enchanted one at that."  
"It suits you very well.", Dagna added.  
"Yes, but where did she get the design?", he asked again.  
"She said not to tell you, in case you'd be uncomfortable with the idea.", Dagna admitted, "but I think it's sweet. Lady Inquisitor told us that her father wears robes like that, but she took out the religious markings for you."  
"Very kind of her.", Solas said, still staring dazedly at the mirror as he shifted through his memories, putting the pieces of puzzle together.

 

_"My mother knew a Keeper, a man who has lived much longer than human life span. Some say that three, even. His clan does not have contact with humans or even other Dalish. They come only for Arlatvhen, and not always for that, either. I met him once, seven years ago, but I believe he still lives."_

 

_"..I was taught that Keepers usually come from ancient bloodlines, and if you mate two of them together, they usually beget a child strong in magic."_

 

Lavellan's.. Ellana's father was dressing as a high priest of an elvhen god, and rumored to be three hundred years old. There was no such a thing as immortality for those born after the Veil, Solas knew it with painful clarity. Quickening was not caused by humans, but by the withdrawal of Fade, and touched all those born after it. The Dalish might try to lengthen their life spans by retreating in the forests, and while it shielded them from human attacks, it didn't truly change anything.  
The chances were that her father _was_ an actual high priest of elvhen god. He knew some of ancients still lingered, and it would explain so much about her spirit.. and it could explain a world about Bog Unicorn's presence. It had not been unheard for a powerful priest, a mage, to find and bind spirit to do the bidding of his god. The most interesting question remained: who and why? Binding a spirit to purpose without twisting it was a major feat of magic, something no reasonable priest would do simply because he sired a new child every ten years and wanted to look after them. There had to be a reason, reason behind such an act, and Solas was going to find out why.

 

 

"Spirit of Purity.", Solas greeted the Bog Unicorn which stood behind the bars. The dead horse looked very different. Someone had polished the sword stuck through it's muzzle and given it a red and gold saddlecloth, complete with reins made of golden rope. It was almost..refined, for a dead carcass.  
"I know you understand me.", Solas continued, thanking silently the unknown jailer who had put Boggy in the broken part of prison instead of the actual guarded area. He did not want audience for this conversation.  
The horse still refused to speak.  
"Who was the priest who bound you and sent you to find the Inquisitor? I know of him."  
Still no answer.  
"Why did you attack me?", Solas demanded.  
"I know who you are.", the spirit finally hissed in ancient elven. "You are the Dread Wolf, and you gave her the crown of shadows and stars. And I, like a fool, fought you, completing the rite."  
Solas' eyes narrowed.  
"It is for her protection, spirit. She will never need to know."  
"Then why?", the spirit asked.  
"When Arlathan rises again, they will see only a slave who has stolen power from a god, and she will die a lingering, cruel death for bearing the anchor. I owe her more than that. They will notice the bond, and leave her be, even if I am no longer there."  
"The High Keeper will not allow it to remain.", Boggy whispered. "Your bond stands in the way of her duty."  
"She is not a slave to be bred to gain more mages for Dalish.", Solas said fiercely. "What kind of father allows his own daughter to be marked so if he knows the truth of vallaslin?"  
"I could tell you, Dread Wolf, but I want something in return. Free me from this body and from the bidding."  
"I would free you nonetheless, if it is what you want.", Solas offered. He reached for his magic, and spoke the words of unbinding. The spell binding the spirit struggled against him, but his will was strong, and with a sigh the body of dead horse collapsed on the floor.  
"The High Keeper who bound me, wore the symbols of Mythal.", the spirit whispered in his ear before it crossed the Veil and flew free.

 

 

Solas didn't know how he had ended up in Skyhold's tavern. It was not typical for him; although he was polite to all members of Inner Circle, he preferred keeping his distance. It is not reasonable to get too close to the people one is deceiving. But the morning's revelation about Mythal worried him more than he wanted to admit; although Solas agreed with Mythal in many things, and was fond of her, she was not what she once had been. Clawing her way through the ages to human body she wore now had left it's marks in Mythal's spirit. Her betrayal and murder had twisted her, turning her justice into vengeance towards those who had slain her. It was yet another thing he grieved, but Solas found himself worrying over Mythal's agenda concerning Inquisitor much like a dog worries over a bone. Mythal believed in destiny, and she was not above giving a nudge - or a kick, if the subject in hand was particularly slow or stubborn - towards direction she felt was right. Solas didn't believe that a high priest could or would act without his patron's blessing or at least her knowledge. Closing the Breach or closing rifts were not actions which would require a spirit guardian. Mythal was playing at some other angle, unknown to him, and Solas did not like it.

He had tried to read to distract himself, but after three pages his head started to throb with pain. Painting was out of question as well, and he knew that letting his mind dwell upon Mythal would do no good. The answer would come in time, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Solas was not yet healed enough to risk entering the Fade. If one couldn't concentrate on a book without headache, magic was not a wise option to pass time. He tried to go over his options, but found out that there were none. He either read, painted, walked the Fade or talked with the Inquisitor, and none of those options were available.

"Chuckles! It's good to see you up!", Varric greeted him as he entered the tavern with the disgusting black bottle of Dalish headache remedy.  
"Is that the stuff Boss cooked up?", Iron Bull asked as Solas sat down. Taking the bottle from the table, Iron Bull opened the cork and sniffed it.  
"Yep. Still smells like a dead nug coated with black powder. But if it can mend a broken skull in five days, I want to have some for Chargers."  
"Broken skull?", Solas repeated, not sure if he had heard right.  
"Don't you remember, Chuckles? Boggy did a real number on you.", Varric shook his head.  
Solas shook his head, although the gesture made him cringe with pain. He took the bottle and poured a mug full of blackish liquid. It had little grey lumps. Fenedhis, it even looked like Andruil's cooking.  
"It looks even worse than it smells.", Varric said.  
"The taste is worst. Do you have anything to wash it down with?", Solas asked, staring at the mug.  
"You have come to a right place, mage.", Iron Bull said and took out a flask.

"So what's Inquisitor doing in the Orlais with Zevran, Sera and that Dalish boy she picked up from the Exalted Plains?"  
"I don't know. Probably something to do with elves there.", Solas said. His head felt much better now. The disgusting medicine had worked like miracle again, and he was pleasantly warm and light-headed. Iron Bull's offerings had burnt away all ability to taste anything, so Solas had taken advantage of situation and drank two mugs more of Andruil's cooking. The combination was splendid.  
"I thought you would know!", Varric said. "You are always going on about Fade or elves."  
"The elves of Orlais are not my concern."  
"But they are your people."  
"No. They are not, and neither are the Dalish in their woods.", Solas shook his head, pleased that it didn't hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. "Would you say that dwarves in Orzammar or Kal-Sharok are your people, although you have nothing common with them except a drop of shared blood centuries ago?"  
"You got me there, Chuckles."  
"Boss seems to think otherwise.", Iron Bull mentioned. "She is skirting dangerously close to the edge with that thing she has going on with elves in Skyhold. The Chantry priests are starting to hate that tree. They could not deny her the funeral, but seeing Herald of Andraste going full Dalish Keeper mode to name a city elf kid was a hit on the face of Chantry. More stuff like that, and she'll end up in stake. Wouldn't be a first holy woman to burn."  
"The Chantry aren't only ones who don't like it.", Varric said. "It's making humans twitch. What would happen if she could strike down the fences between city elfs and the Dalish? We might all wake up one day to hear her rallying her people for elven glory. She's got that spark of grim determination which Blondie had, and it _never_ ends well."

 

The talk in the tavern left a bitter taste in Solas' mouth which had nothing to do with medicine. He considered for a moment between the couch in rotunda and Inquisitor's quarters, and then turned left. There was no shame in it. He had offered her a crown of shadows and stars, and she had accepted. Orlesian bed she hated was much softer and more comfortable than his narrow couch, and the pillows would not induce another headache.

He slipped in Fade effortlessly, searching for her. He found her from her usual haunt, the old library of Skyhold, hidden near the kitchens. She was reading there in the light of candles.  
"Are you well enough to be here?", Lavellan asked practically the moment she saw him.  
"I wanted to see you.", he admitted. It was true. His whole day had been a march of unknown threats and he needed to see her to soothe his mind.  
She smiled and closed the book she was reading.  
"How is Orlais?", he asked, manipulating Fade to add a chair for himself.  
"Val Royeaux is worse than I thought.", she said, her eyes turning hard. "Ten thousand elves crammed together, living in an area which is no bigger than Skyhold. Zevran says that alienages are alike everywhere, and the people just accept it. How can anyone accept living in a place where sun can't touch the ground before midday? I used to think that going without food was a fact of life when I lived with my clan, but we were still better off than elves in alienages."  
"Vhenan, the fate of elves is something one woman can't change.", Solas took her hands in his. "The oppression goes back for longer than a thousand years, and even if you could change the circumstances they live in, you can't force them to be free."  
"Anders was just a one man, and he changed the fate of the mages. It was horrible and bloody, but now mages are free, and it is up to me and others to make sure they will never be imprisoned again. The people can free themselves only after someone shows them it can be done, and takes the first step.", Lavellan replied, stubborn glint in her eyes.  
"Is that what you are doing there?"  
"Mostly I'm killing assassins going after Briala and doing all kinds of fetching to prove my good intentions. She doesn't trust a Dalish elf. We have had some discussions, however, on what she wants to accomplish and how. I haven't yet decided what to do about her."  
"You should be careful when choosing allies, especially those closest to you. Enemies might attack, but only allies can betray you.", Solas reminded her, wishing she would understand how true his words were. It would spare them both from so much in the end. But like weak and selfish man he was, he didn't press the topic, but let the discussion turn to safer directions. He watched her face light up when they discussed the nature of dreams and magical techniques used to manipulate them, and thought of Varric's question in tavern. Dalish or city elves were not his people. The Inquisitor was, even if she didn't know it.


	15. Winter Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan goes to Winter Palace to play the Game.

Lavellan had purple shadows under her eyes. She had not slept much the night before Empress Celene's ball if at all; when Cassandra had came to wake her up, she had found her kneeling on the balcony, lips moving in quiet prayer as she leaned on her Keeper's staff. Cassandra didn't understand the words, but she understood faith, and hoped that Lavellan had found whatever guidance her gods had to offer. It was customary to hold a vigil and ask guidance from the Maker before great work, and although Cassandra despised parties of nobility and Orlesian dancing, she could not deny that bringing peace to Orlais was greater task than most people ever faced.

The burdens of faith were great, because the Inquisitor kept nodding off in the carriage. The road was bumpy, and there wasn't much to do except sit. Cassandra didn't like travelling this way, but Josephine had insisted. She looked pristine as always, and chatted about Orlesian fashion with Leliana. It was an exhausting topic, and Cassandra was not surprised to see how Lavellan's eyes closed again and her body relaxed until she started to fall forwards and almost hit Cullen's knees before startling awake again.  
"Your colors match, now.", Cole informed the Inquisitor. "The tree is purple, just like your skin under the eyes."  
"I knew I was after something when I chose that color.", the Inquisitor said. "I'm still grateful it wasn't June. I don't want to think what it feels like to let someone tattoo your eyelids and lower lip."  
"But you thought of it, every time you held needles and colors. And you tried to be quick, but Keeper scolded you, saying that work of gods must not be rushed.", Cole replied.  
"It is not my favorite part of Keeper's job.", the Inquisitor said, yawning behind her gloved hand.  
"What was your favorite part?", Cassandra asked.  
"Ruins.", she replied seriously, earning a chuckle from Solas. "And I also could smack someone with my staff if they were stupid. Being Inquisitor is sadly lacking in that prospect."  
"Weren't they angry?", Cole queried.  
"Mythal did it all the time to other gods. I don't know if she had a staff, but we have many stories of her keeping order, turning into giant snake and fighting Andruil until she came into her senses again, calming Elgar'nan... So if the Keeper hits you with her staff for behaving badly, you have to accept it, because it is a religious act."  
"Solas, is she tricking us?", Cassandra asked, not believing her own ears.  
The apostate mage was trembling with silent laughter, and although he did his best to calm down, the mirth in his eyes was genuine.  
"No.", he said. "Actually, I think those stories are quite accurate. I just didn't know the Dalish had developed a religious practice based on them."  
"Keepers aren't stupid, Solas.", Lavellan said smugly, leaning against his shoulder. "One can't spend her whole life studying lore and not to gain any useful insight from it."  
He was still laughing when Lavellan fell asleep. Laughter was good, she thought.

She was still sleeping when the carriage turned towards the gates of Halamshiral.  
"Wake up.", Solas said, nudging her. "It is time."  
"You can't go to court looking sleepy.", Leliana said. "It will not do. You need some color on your face. Josephine, you brought the box of rouge?"  
"Not the cursed stuff!", Cassandra complained. "Once you open the box, it always spreads everywhere!"  
"I don't want garish red spots on my face. It is bad enough to go to a ball dressed like a shemlen military officer.", Lavellan resisted, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes.  
"I know you wanted a dress.", Cole said, patting her hand. "You dreamed of dancing, feeling the soft rustle of fabric against your bare skin. It would have flowed behind you when you danced, the palest silk with unpractical sleeves. Not something Keeper could own, or ever justify, but it would have been just for you. To feel pretty once, instead of being covered with blood and bits of Fade and demon ichor.."  
"Cole, please. It's childish.", Lavellan said firmly.  
"It is not childish to want something unnecessary, vhenan.", Solas said in elven, turning her face gently towards him. "You can't build your whole life around your duty. You are entitled a moment of frivolity every now and then, as am I."  
He ran his hands slowly over her face and hair, and with painter's skill, changed a way how the light touched her brow there, added the faintest sparkles of gold on her skin, deepened the red of her lips just a fraction. It was an old trick from the days of Arlathan, when he had played the Game with best of them. Not to change anything, but enhance, mesmerize. To be true to his words, even this once, he allowed himself his moment of frivolity and bent the shadows and light to crown her, because she was his to love and hold.  
"That is.. beautiful.", Leliana said, her voice filled with wonder.  
"If I am to be introduced as the lady Inquisitor's elven serving man, I should play the part.", Solas remarked.  
"Just don't let the old dowagers know. They are not above kidnapping people if they think it will help them to lure yet another husband...", Josephine warned.  
"They can't have him.", Lavellan said firmly. "But listen. Cole, I want you to stay out of sight and get me all useful information you might hear. Keep an eye on Zevran. He is there, posing one of the servants, and if something happens to him, come to Solas at once."  
"Zevran? I didn't know we had people inside!", Leliana exclaimed.  
"Briala made me an offer.", the Inquisitor said. "I thought it was too good to pass. Zevran has been there for few weeks, now, and it will be useful to have eyes and ears outside the ballroom. The rest of you will mingle, and listen."  
All traces of sleep were gone now, only quiet determination was left. When the coach stopped and the driver opened the doors, the Inquisitor was on the prowl. She was all the easy smiles, light words without meaning, and below, a woman with a mission.

 

Many things flickered through her mind as Lavellan stood on the steps of grand ballroom, waiting to be introduced with Gaspard du Chalons. The palace was dazzling, and unlike anything she had seen. It had been good to spend those three weeks in Val Royeaux, running tasks for Briala and discuss the future of elves. The palace lost much of it's grandeur for Keeper who knew it had been built on the bones of her people, and the empress herself was found wanting. She could feel the shemlen staring at her, but it didn't matter. Her eyes were cool and disinterested, like she had seen the beauty like this thousand times and grew bored with it. All those hours she had spent with Dorian, Vivienne, even Alexius the Tevinter prisoner-researcher to learn how to govern her face and gestures had paid off. 

"And now, presenting.", the herald's voice carried through the room as Lavellan waited for her turn on the stairway. "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him..."  
"Lady Inquisitor Lavellan!"  
She stopped on the top of the stairs, making a careful small bow at the Empress in the other end of the room, who nodded in return.  
"Vanquisher of rebel mages of Ferelden, crusher of vile apostates of the mage underground! Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!"  
Whoever wrote the introductions, should consider a side business in romance novels. Lavellan could only wonder how saving the mages from Tevinter servitude and giving them their freedom suddenly had turned to vanquishing and crushing. The bit about Andraste, at least, was familiar, although she didn't like it. Still, posturing was necessary and from Briala, she knew it was only thing which kept people calling her 'rabbit' or 'knife-ear' at her face. They undoubtedly did it behind her back.  
She heard Gaspard's low chuckle from her side.  
"Did you see their faces? Priceless.", the man whispered.  
"Accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena.." 

Empress Celene of Orlais was a grand sight to see, a woman accustomed to commanding loyalty. She was talented at it, Lavellan knew. She had gotten enough of Briala's story to guess the rest, and Michel de Chevin, a former champion of Celene, currently an agent for Inquisition Lavellan had acquired in Emprise du Lion, had filled out the rest.  
When Lavellan stood in front of Celene now, she despised the woman. A shemlen ruler, who had kept Briala as pet for twenty years, always promising better fate for elves but never quite delivering. Her hand was too weak, her will not strong enough, and there was no reason to believe she would suddenly change. Briala had kept believing until the bitter end, but Lavellan was not a fool blinded by love. The empress was all smiles, but none of them ever touched her eyes. How had it felt, to bed an elf knowing you had murdered her parents? To keep that secret, know it every time you touched her? Give her empty promises?  
When the empress asked Lavellan what she thought of Halamshiral, the Inquisitor offered meaningless compliments, but in her heart she knew her decision had been right. She had stayed up for most of the night, praying for guidance from silent gods, who never answered. But her answer was here, now. It would be Gaspard, and Briala if Lavellan could make it so, and Celene would die.

 

It was interesting to eavesdrop conversations, especially ones concerning her.

\--  
"Have you seen lady Inquisitor? She bows like a Tevinter magister!"  
"My cousin says that she is one, a former slave who killed her master and was promised a seat in Magisterium if she delivered Divine Justinia's head!"  
\--  
"I like the headpiece lady Inquisitor is wearing. It is very stylish. I wonder if she would sell it to me?"  
"I doubt that, my dear. It is a hereditary piece belonging to lord Commander Cullen. They are lovers."  
"I wonder if they would be interested in sharing? I can take the commander, who has an irrestistible ass, and you can take the elf. I love watching you fuck a rabbit."  
\--  
"I have heard that Count Trevelyan is going to send a golden fruit basket to Inquisitor."  
"Why would he do that?"  
"She arranged quite advantageous match for his younger son! The blushing bride is 78th cousin of King Marcus of Nevarra. A bit removed from the throne, but royal blood is always royal blood!"

 

Lavellan was smiling quietly at herself and wondering what Cassandra would think of this, when she heard steps coming down the stairs.  
"Well, well, what have we here? The leader of new Inquisition, fabled herald of the faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.", dark, familiar female voice drawled.  
The Inquisitor looked at the face she had not seen in seven years, and a true smile warmed her eyes.  
"Lethallan", she said, walking up to meet her.  
"Sister.", Morrigan replied. "I never thought it would be you before I saw you in the ballroom. They never seem to mention your given name. You have become rather holy and glowing since we last met. What a pity."  
"And you look rather worldly and Orlesian.", Lavellan looked at her. "The witch of the wilds, wearing a gown?"  
"While you are dressed like a human soldier.", Morrigan said. "There is a Tevinter spy in the palace. I had to kill him before I got anything out of him, but he had a key in his pocket."  
Offering the key to her, she continued before pushing open the door to ballroom:  
"Good hunting, sister. I will speak with you again after this is over. You must explain how _you_ , of all people, ended up being a holy herald of pretentious god."

 

 

Solas was enjoying himself. The servants topped his glass dutifully and the frilly cakes were even more outrageous than usual. Few people bothered him, not quite knowing what to make of him, and it suited Solas well. He almost pitied commander Cullen, who was constantly harassed by a group of Orlesian nobles, but such was the fate of those who didn't know how to play. Maybe commander would learn of the experience, but somehow Solas doubted it. Cullen was a simple man with simple pleasures and no taste for intrigue.  
He, on the other hand, was pleasantly reminded of days gone by. This Orlesian Game was pale imitation from the past, like so many things were. Mortal danger was not as thrilling when one was going to die eventually anyway, but on the other hand, playing against unknown opponents was much more interesting than trying to guess which one of her three common opening maneuvers Sylaise was going to use. Sadly, the Game was not his task tonight. He was here as a watcher, not a player, and the one he watched was just leading grand duchess Florianne to dance floor. The music was loud, and only parts of discussion carried to balcony.  
"In times like these, it's hard to tell friend from a foe. Is it not, your grace?", he heard Lavellan's voice saying sensually as the Inquisitor lifted her arm to let duchess to whirl under it. She stepped back to lead duchess from behind, her hand lightly resting on human's waist. Solas hid his smile behind his glass. Two things were obvious. First, Dorian had taught her this particular dance, because the Inquisitor was dominating duchess with effortless grace. For all his talk, Dorian was as poor at leading on the dance floor as outside it, while the Inquisitor was not. In that uniform, and dancing with the arrogant gestures of shemlen prince - some blatantly stolen from Swords and Shields for good effect - she made rather stirring picture. The court liked it. It was not something anyone would expect from a Dalish elf.  
The Inquisitor waltzed past him again, continuing her shameless flirtation with the duchess.  
"Am I the curiosity or the concern for you, your Grace?", she asked.  
"A little of both, actually.", Florianne admitted in soft Orlesian accent, before they disappeared in the crowd again.  
The second thing, Solas decided, was that he had to ask about Dalish dancing from Inquisitor. She had mentioned that the concept of dancing for power was not foreign to her, and it was apparent that she had not lied. Learning the steps was one thing, but seeing normally very reserved and private person like his vhenan suddenly whispering sexually colored advances in the ears of shemlen duchess made him wonder what kind of dances for power she was familiar with. Considering that he knew she was not interested in humans or women, he found himself wondering what would happen if she were to turn that same hidden face of hers towards him. It would be different, because he would lead on the dance floor, unlike Dorian or grand duchess, but the struggle for power would only make it sweeter.  
The Inquisitor dipped the grand duchess dramatically when the music rose to crescendo, earning the standing ovation and gasps from the court. Her eyes found his, and she gifted him with a knowing smile, prideful in her own power.  
Solas had suddenly developed a great deal of interest in dancing. Dancing with an elven apostate would gain her little favor with the court, but after their business was concluded, he would have his dance. He watched her bow to the grand duchess, and then she headed towards him. 

"It was good to find you here, Solas. I have a need for you.", she said, taking a glass of wine from a tray servant held.  
"Of course, your Worship.", he said, following her. "How may I serve?"  
"How is that common turns of phrase sound somewhat sinister when you utter them?", she asked, leaving the ballroom and turning to left.  
"I don't understand what you mean.", he claimed.  
"I think I need fresh air. Dancing has left me flustered.", she announced. "You may escort me to garden."

 

"This is the garden you requested.", Solas said, stepping in the shadows behind a column and pulling her with him.  
"What do you need me for?", he asked, his voice low and entirely too pleasant to be honest, like a courtier's. The words were innocent enough, but the look in his eyes was anything but.  
"It is a bit shady suggestion.", Lavellan replied slowly, enjoying herself.  
He held his open hand and crouched fingers slightly, gesturing her to continue. She rose on her toes, and whispered softly in his ear.  
"I am going to climb up the trellis, and I would appreciate if you kept a watch for me. I don't want to be seen breaking into private rooms."  
And just because she felt like it, she grazed the lobe of his ear with her teeth. It would serve him right for wearing that horrible hat.

 

\--

"This evening has been most unexpected.", the Inquisitor said as she came to speak with Leliana and Cassandra after the first ring of the bell summoning them back to ballroom. "I thought one wouldn't have to climb up a trellis in imperial parties. Or steal little statues to break inside rooms. Or kill Venatori agents dressed as fools. I'm horribly disappointed at the lack of decorum."  
"You are in odd mood.", Cassandra noted.  
"To quote Solas: 'I do adore the heavy blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events'.", Lavellan replied and sipped from her glass.  
"I find it interesting that he would enjoy such an event. Has he been in court before?", Leliana asked.  
"Of course. We have seen many displays like this, in the Fade.", Lavellan said idly. "Although one cannot truly interact with past memories, they are very useful for learning how to play the Game."  
"The Fade, answer to all questions.", Cassandra shook her head.  
"Oh, it is.", Lavellan said, smiling a coy smile. _"In your heart shall burn / An unquenchable flame /All-consuming, and never satisfied. /From the Fade I crafted you / And to the Fade you shall return."_  
"Herald of Andraste, reciting the fifth canticle of Threnodies in Winter Palace. Surely we are to blessed!", a passing noble sighed.  
Leliana and Cassandra looked at each other, and then Lavellan, who was looking entirely too innocent. The second bell rang.  
"You are a horrible person.", Leliana said finally.  
"That is not kind thing to say about the leader of the faithful.", Lavellan tsked and left to ballroom.  
  


 

Solas was rather curious to see what the Inquisitor had decided. Like a shadow, he followed her to ballroom, keeping a respectful distance. Cullen, however, wasn't. He came to her the moment he saw her, speaking urgently in low voice.  
"Thank the Maker you're back! The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"  
Lavellan crossed her hands and said calmly:  
"The duchess will assassinate Celene personally. Wait for her to strike, then grab her."  
"As you command.", Cullen said, his face hardening.  
The commander left swiftly, and the Inquisitor withdrew to side of the room, waiting for Celene's speech to begin.  
"The important thing to remember is to look beyond the simple concepts of good and bad.", Solas said quietly in his own language. "Keeping your spirit pure has nothing to do with morals, and everything to do with a cause."  
"Thank you, Solas.", Lavellan replied, keeping her eyes on the empress. "Prepare yourself. I think we are going to get a historical chance to reveal ourselves as apostates in the front of imperial court. Very soon."

It came very soon. The empress fell on her knees, then to floor, with duchess' knife in her back.  
"Florianne! What have you done?", Gaspard cried.  
"Don't be coy! It went just as we planned! I did this for you, brother!", duchess laughed.  
Cole appeared from nowhere, handing the Inquisitor her staff, and she ran towards the duchess, dodging people the best she could.  
"Me? Have you gone mad?", Gaspard asked.  
"No. Not Gaspard. You did it for Corypheus.", the Inquisitor's voice cut through the noise.  
"What a terrible guest you are. Interrupting your host. For Corypheus!", Florianne shouted, and ran to garden. Fighting broke out all around them, and Solas saw the Inquisitor chasing Florianne to balcony. Both women jumped over the railing and cursing for Cassandra's slowness, he went after them. Lavellan should know better than running after murderer alone.

\--

Josephine had been right about one thing when she ordered similar uniforms to Inquisition. The blood didn't show very much on red fabric as the Inquisitor returned from garden, giving a firm nod to Briala and Gaspard who followed her to balcony.  
"Most interesting.", woman's voice said beside them. "She has come far. Once a slip of a girl, and now, she orders nations."  
Leliana turned around, looking hostile.  
"Morrigan."  
"There is no need to be rude.", the woman said. "I have known the Inquisitor far longer than any of you, and I'm pleased to see her triumph. You will undoubtedly see much more of me in the future, because Gaspard already asked me to become a liaison between Inquisition and the empire. If she makes him emperor, of course."  
Solas glanced at human carefully. So this was Morrigan, the friend Ellana had spoken about. It was curious incident to see her here, of all possible places. Coincidences were rare in places like this, as rare as the long-lost friends who appeared in the wake of Corypheus. It would be prudent to keep his distance from her until he knew enough to take her measure.

Whatever the three discussed in the balcony, it didn't take long. Gaspard left first, while the two women lingered for a while longer.  
"The elves of Orlais have a future. For the first time in centuries. If only Celene...", Briala said. There was longing in her voice, but no true sorrow. "My people will find a way to repay you. I promise you."  
The Inquisitor shook her head.  
"There is no need for repayment. We have a common goal. Just use this opportunity well."  
"I will. I've been waiting for this moment all my life.", Briala said. "But we're keeping our new emperor waiting. Go give the nobility the good news."

  
Solas could hear the shuddering breath Zevran let out, and he was not surprised to see the assassin looking at Lavellan with a bare emotion on his face. Zevran had been her accomplice in this, slowly but surely sucked in working for the cause instead of treating it like a mission, and now he was the lieutenant watching his leader make a new emperor. There was no mistaking the way Lavellan stood behind Gaspard as he spoke his first words as a ruler.  
"Lords and ladies of the court. It is done.", Gaspard said. "This is not the end any of us would have chosen, but the civil war was over. We stand here as proof of empire's fortitude. Our enemies must learn that Orlais will not fall to treachery. We will never surrender our empire. We shall teach them the finality of this truth with steel!"

\--

She had gone to the balcony to get some fresh air. The day had been long, and she felt skittish as a newborn halla. Lavellan could hardly believe she had done it. She had came to Halamshiral, and given Orlais a new emperor, controlled by elves. Gaspard could stuff the rabbit joke in his throat.  
"Dead.", Zevran's familiar voice whispered in her ear.  
"Not again, Zevran.", she sighed.  
"A moment of victory is a perfect time to strike.", the assassin said. He lacked his usual confident grin, wearing a serious expression.  
"I don't know what to say.", Zevran continued. "When you first recruited me to this fool's task, I thought it was as likely to get me killed as any other job, and I have always been drawn to foolish idealists. I thought it was because I have seen too much to believe in better future and felt envious of those still able to think so. And I was right; change wasn't possible. Until you made it so."  
He kneeled on one knee in front of her, taking her hands in his.  
"You made it so, my lady. You held the empire of Orlais in your hand, and gave it back to our people. I have never had people before, and I never expected them to thank me for having a future for first time in centuries. But they do, and I did it, with you. You have remade me into something I have never thought I could be."  
"Zevran, I didn't change you.", Lavellan said, blinking back tears. "You changed yourself."  
"We can agree to disagree about that. But what I wanted to say.. I am yours for life. I lived for a while with the Dalish, and I know hunters have sworn to defend their Keeper to the last breath. Let me be your hunter."  
"You.. You wish to join my clan?"  
"I would be honored, if you'll have me.", Zevran said.  
There was only one thing to do, and she did it with shaking hands. She pulled Zevran up and said:  
"Welcome to clan, Zevran Aranai Lavellan."

And she was no longer alone.


	16. Dancing in the Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan discuss his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is extremely fluffy chapter. To make up for the future chapters *evil author dance*
> 
> Recommended soundtrack is Into Eternity https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sWBIGSew_I
> 
> (Readers of my other series have already learned to fear the inevitable consequences when somebody is very, very happy.)

The room was spinning in most interesting way when Lavellan sat down on her bed. She felt pleasantly drunk but couldn't say whether it was on power or wine. Maybe both. The day had been long and exhausting. Leliana and Josephine were chatting about guest accommodations of Winter Palace, and how Gaspard had arranged the very best rooms for Inquisition, even if it meant they had to share. It was apparently all about location, and Cassandra couldn't care less about it. Lavellan snickered as she opened the little pouch of dried herbs and took a pinch. The herbs Somniari used didn't induce sleep; they merely opened the mind, making Fade more real and the reality less so, but Lavellan had repeated this bedtime ritual so many times by now that she felt her body starting to relax as soon as she tasted the flavor on her tongue. Kicking her boots off, she laid down, and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the ridiculously fluffy Orlesian pillow.

 

 

She walked the corridors of Winter Palace with wine glass in her hand, watching the flickering dreamers with amusement. A group of wisps followed her every move, dancing in the air around her. They were harmless, undeveloped spirits, and she let them be.  
So far, she had seen no less than four dream-Gaspards trysting in a dark corner with a noblewoman, whispering promises of power and exalted status. The dreamers could not quite agree on what he looked like naked. Maybe Gaspard had spoken truth about disliking the Game.  
"The Fade is full of prospective empresses and more than few dashing chevaliers dreaming of emperor's favor tonight.", Solas remarked, appearing next to her with ease of practiced Somniari. "The draw of power is inevitable, and the spirits revel in it."  
"Ah.", Lavellan said, flicking away a wisp which tried to get into her wine glass. "It explains my constant company tonight, but also raises a question. Have you come to revel in my presence, too, or do you have other plans?"  
"Actually, I have developed a great deal of interest in dancing after seeing your performance with the duchess.", Solas said, taking her hand. "I found myself wondering how it would play out between us."  
"I think you are drunk, Solas.", Lavellan said, her eyes sparkling with glee. "I suspected it, but now I'm sure of it."  
"So are you, vhenan.", he said, undisturbed. His long, lithe fingers drew circles on the back of her hand, and Lavellan could feel the butterflies in her stomach building upon such a simple touch. "You bit me on the ear. In a garden bush, of all things."  
"You deserved it, for wearing that horrible hat.", she said, her breath warm against his neck, but not quite touching.  
"If you meant to encourage me to give up my excellent find, I fear the effect might be opposite.", Solas chuckled. "But the hat would not suit in where we are going. There are better tunes to be found tonight than the Orlesian waltz."

 

"The elves are raising glasses in your honor tonight. Since Fade is a reflection of our world, Briala's victory has called up old memories of this place.", Solas said as they stood on the stairs above ballroom. "The elves of Orlais do not remember them, but the spirits do."  
The room was different, and so were the dancers. Their clothes were older, but they were humans, still. She could see the spirits curiously watching them from the shadows of the ballroom, and the wisps were still circling around her.  
"If a Somniari wishes, he can descend deeper in the memories of Fade.", he said. "All it takes is giving in, letting mind float freely upon the currents of time and perception. Fade becomes sharper, and the waking world dims."  
"The very opposite of what Circle mages do."  
"Exactly. They limit their understanding of what they can do by placing restrictions and rules upon their magic. We all breathe, and only when we concentrate on doing it, it grows erratic, becomes harder. Magic of the Fade is like breathing. Open yourself, focus on what you want instead on how to do it, and you will see marvels long forgotten. Your blood will sing an old song, and you can hear it, if you only listen."  
He bowed to her and they descended down the stairs to the dance floor.  
  
The Fade was soft, and her head felt light, the waking world growing more distant as they danced among the people long gone. She felt his hand on the small of her back, and they spun as the dark sound of strings and drums filled the air. Lavellan did not feel fear, only a warm, relaxed feeling like sinking in hot water.  
"Before I forget: Leliana asked about you. She found your enjoyment interesting for an apostate and wanted to know have you been at the court before. I told her that we've been to events like this in Fade, many times. She seemed satisfied with the answer, and then I distracted them by reciting a Chant of Light."  
Solas' face became wary, and he was going to say something but Lavellan put her finger on her lips.  
"No, Solas. I didn't tell you to demand an answer. It was only because I don't want our stories to conflict, if Leliana pursues the issue further. It is best if we both say the same thing."  
She let the magic of Fade wash over her, watching as the room around them changed. The marble columns were gone now, the blue draperies replaced by mosaics on the walls. The dancers were elves, the music a tune she did not recognize but which felt eerily familiar.  
"You mean what you said.", Solas said, stopping in the middle of motion. "Why you never ask? I know you must have questions."  
Lavellan looked at him, noticing the tension in his jaw and wariness in his eyes.  
"Because I believe you would tell me, if you could.", she replied. "What good it would do, to demand something you cannot give? You have said that much. You have told that you have a duty you must eventually follow alone, and little to offer. It is more honesty than most people in love offer to each other, and I am not that different. I, too, have my duty which you cannot share."  
Looking down, she continued, feeling horribly embarrassed and unable to look at him:  
"Falling in love was.. unexpected blessing for me. It was something I never expected, something I never thought I could have. I put all that aside on the day my magic manifested, and Keeper explained me what it meant. Then you came, and I.. It was never supposed to happen, but I'm glad it did, and I'm glad it was you."  
"But--", Solas began.  
"I don't care about questions.", Lavellan said, shaking her head."I fell in love with you, you as I have learned to know you. You have left things unsaid, as have I, but I don't think you have lied to me. It might be a small difference, but it is enough for me. If I die tomorrow, or today, whether I fall in a fight against Corypheus or die old, surrounded by my clan, my life has still been richer for you. I chose you, and you can't make me repent it, because _I don't_. I am not perfect. I can be horribly selfish, and I'm sure my father will have my hide for this when Zarel tattles to him. I shudder to think what he'll do when he finds out about you, but hopefully he'll just kill me for desecrating our religion by pretending to be a herald of shemlen god... Now I'm rambling. Creators, this is horribly embarrassing.", she wailed. "Can't we just pretend this discussion never happened and go back to talking about Fade and magic?"  
"No.", Solas said.  
She was dreadfully embarrassed, unable to meet his gaze.  
"There is no need to be ashamed, vhenan.", he said and pushed her chin up with his fingers. "It is I who should be ashamed. Your wisdom outshines mine, for I have always been a lone wolf. I thought I had tricked you into something you don't understand, and we both would suffer for it, but I was selfish and could not force myself to stay away. But now I understand you saw it differently."  
"Yes.", Lavellan said, her face serious. "It was my choice. We never know the outcomes of our choices on the moment of choosing, but we can choose what we _want_."  
Want was a word which had not been included in his plans for a very long time, not since his youth. But on that moment, in the ballroom of original Halamshiral of the past, he asked himself if he truly was so undeserving that he could not choose what he _wanted_ , even this once. He wanted to replace even one of his necessary lies with a truth.  
"If I offered you a crown of shadows and stars, would you accept?", he asked, the words escaping from his lips by their own volition.  
"As in Elvhenan?", she asked.  
"Yes. As in Elvhenan. A lover's bond, for year and a day.", he said. "I made it for you in flowers, but I didn't ask, so it wasn't binding."  
"A practice version?", her lips curved in a smile. "What happens after year and a day?"  
"If both parties wish to continue, it is made permanent. If not, the bond fades away.", he said, feeling naked and unsure while he waited for her answer.  
Andruil would have laughed at him, had she seen Fen'Harel at that moment. At a mercy of a slave girl, offering his heart and fervently hoping for acceptance. But Andruil had always been a fool.  
"I can do a year and a day. Yes.", she said, and kissed him.  
His magic surged, and he kissed her back. The Fade bent to his will, as willing as he to do this _right_ , and they stood on the balcony of crystal tower belonging to somniari when he placed the crown of shadows and stars at her feet. He would never forget how brightly her spirit shone when she picked it up, placing his creation on her hair, and on that moment, Fen'Harel knew he was blessed. For an year and a day.

 

 


	17. Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice trip to gather more shards turns into something else, as another being from the past makes his move.

It was beautiful spring day. Inner Circle was spending it in Hinterlands, watching the Inquisitor trying to scale a cliff to reach a shard. It had been going on for an half a hour already.  
"There is a foothold on your left side.", Iron Bull shouted helpfully. "If you let go with your right hand and swing yourself, you'll make it."  
She muttered something which sounded suspiciously like a curse, hanging up there by her fingertips.  
"This is boring.", Sera complained. "Why we have to come into middle of nowhere to stare into nasty dead skulls and collect blue uglies?"  
"Have you heard them whispering at night?", Solas asked. He knew he shouldn't, but someone had filled his bedroll with frogs last night.  
"What?", Sera asked, her eyes widening with fear.  
"They do. That is how she finds them. Dozens of voices, whispering words in dead language. It slides over your skin like a cold secret.", Solas said.  
"Yuck! Inky, come down!", she yelled. "We don't want shards!"  
"Corypheus wants them.", the Inquisitor shouted back, swinging her weight to left and making a leap which made Solas feel slightly unwell. This was foolish. If only they had taken Cole and Zevran, she could have shapeshifted and flown there, saving him from witnessing near-death scenes but no. She insisted that she couldn't keep favorites any more than she did already, that she should spend time with everyone in her Inner Circle to command their loyalties.  
"Like that was an answer.", Sera said, sniffing.  
"All that staff fighting mages do has given her a better upper body strength than one would expect for a slight build. Hard to say what she actually looks like under the robes. You probably know, Solas?", Iron Bull grinned.  
Solas did not deign to answer.  
"So, you and the Lady Inquisitor? Interesting.", Sera said, pleased to change the subject.  
"Your interest is not my concern.", Solas replied.  
"That's alright because I meant 'boring'. The elf always takes an elf so bumping bits will mean something."  
"It is not the topic for discussion.", Solas snapped.  
"Oh come on, drop 'em in and build the empire for-"  
The sharp snap of the stunted tree breaking was loud, and Inquisitor screamed as her handhold broke. She held the shard against her chest, trying to shield it from harm as she fell down from the cliff. Solas threw a barrier on her instinctively, and she rolled downwards until her back hit a larger rock, stopping her fall.  
"It's all right.", Lavellan's voice announced after a short while. "No real injuries. And the shard is still intact."

 

"It would be good if Inquisition found out what Corypheus is doing.", Iron Bull said as they got back to camp. "Hunting for shards is a minor task, no matter how badly Venatori want them. All this relative peace is making my horns itch."  
"Three months without any news is a long time, especially for someone as desperate as Corypheus must be after all his defeats.", Solas admitted.  
"Precisely.", Iron Bull replied. "That creeper is up to no good, and Ben-Hassrath are concerned we might find out his goal too late."  
"Inquisitor.", the requisition officer came to them. "There is someone who wants to speak with you. A Dalish hunter with a message."  
"Did he mention which clan sent him?", Lavellan asked.  
"No. He refused to tell us anything, really. He's waiting on the edge of forest."  
"It could be a trap, boss.", Iron Bull warned. "If I wanted to assassinate you, I would probably pay an Dalish elf to do it."  
"You might be right. Follow me, then.", Lavellan nodded.

They walked near the forest's edge, but there was nobody on sight. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, stepped a hooded figure in greyish white cloak. He was tall for an elf, and when he lifted down his hood, he wore a vallaslin of Mythal on his forehead.  
"I didn't know the Dalish had fancy, golden armors like that.", Iron Bull murmured.  
They didn't, Solas wanted to answer. The man was no Dalish. He was elvhen, a true elvhen, who did not belong to this place or time.  
He was so caught up in his own feelings that he barely noticed Lavellan's face before Sera said obnoxiously.  
"I think the boss is about to cry. She really has a thing for elfy elfs."  
"Quiet, Sera. Wait here. This man is no danger.", Lavellan said. Her shoulders slouching like a scolded child's, she went to him. They spoke quietly for a while, the words too soft for Solas to hear. Lavellan nodded, all fight bleeding out from her in mere moments. He turned to leave, vanishing from sight, and she came back to them.  
"We must return to Skyhold. We have a sighting of Corypheus, and I have other matters to attend to.", she said.

 

Lavellan rode a little further from the main group, and it was evident that she did not desire company.  
"Did any of you catch what that elf said to her? She looks like a child whose cookies were stolen by Arishok.", Iron Bull said.  
"Nope. Just some elven shit about halashiva.", Sera shook her head.  
"Would it be halam'shivanas?", Solas asked against his will, pronouncing the word right.  
"Might be. What does that shit even mean?", Sera demanded. "That's so elfy. They don't bother to use words and then they go behind their stupid trees and laugh because nobody gets it. A lousy joke."  
"Halam'shivanas means sweet sacrifice of duty. A loss of something personal for duty's sake.", Solas said.  
"That's exactly what I meant. Elfy shit.", Sera announced.

 

In Skyhold, the Inquisitor closed herself in war room with her advisors and Morrigan, and they were there for hours. It was late evening when she finally came to her quarters, where Solas waited for her. She went to open balcony doors but then decided against it. She stood there, holding her hands against cold glass.  
"What is it, vhenan?", he asked.  
"Corypheus has been sighted in Arbor Wilds. When Morrigan searched for an eluvian, she heard legends of ancient elven temple there. The dangers were too much for two of us to face, and so we turned to another direction to find our prize. She believes that Corypheus is after it, now. He has the necessary forces to break through defenses. I have given orders for Inquisition to call our allies to arms, and gather our forces to march against Corypheus.", she explained, still her back towards him.  
"You would not be so upset if it was only that.", he said, embracing her from behind.  
"The messenger had other news, as well. The High Keeper has called Arlathvhen early. In four weeks.", she said, choking on the words.

Solas closed his eyes for a moment, holding her tight against him. He had known it would come, eventually, but he thought they would have more time.  
"I am not sure if I can do it, again.", her voice was shaking with unshed tears. "It hurt so badly to give him up the last time, and it will be worse now."  
In his most foolish moments, he had thought of ways to circumvent the problem. It would have been so simple, and he might have done it, had he still been fierce and sure of his own power like he had been in his youth. He had seen the way Ellana treated Morrigan's son, giving the boy hugs, kisses and all the motherly affection meant for another boy, long lost. The wound was deep, no matter how she claimed it was for the best, or how it was Dalish way, a necessity. In her heart, she yearned for a child she could keep. Had he been something else than he was, an ordinary man, he would have given her heart's desire. But he was Fen'Harel, and it would have made everything just worse.  
"Do you want to do it?", Solas asked.  
"No!", she turned around quickly, looking at him. "No, I don't want to. I know I should, but I never, ever want to do it again.", her words were angry and laced with bitterness.  
"The question is, then, does the High Keeper have necessary force to make you?", he asked.  
"I don't know.", she said. "I don't even know if that is what he wants of me, or is it something else."  
Lavellan withdrew from him, starting to walk back and forth in her room like a caged animal.

  
"I have not been completely honest with you, Solas. High Keeper is my father. Whether it means something or not, I don't know. I met him only once in my life and he is.. strange."  
"Strange how?"  
"Most Dalish don't even know he exists. I learned it only after I returned my clan with Morrigan and her eluvian, seven years ago. My Keeper was very impressed with our find, and few weeks after Morrigan left with her son and the mirror, I was called to Keeper's aravel. Two hunters had arrived to our clan in the night, much like the messenger you saw, and my Keeper said they were sent to escort me to High Keeper who wanted to see me. She warned me to be in my very best behavior, and we slipped away in the darkness. Nobody saw us leave."  
"They took me to elven ruins, where we found yet another eluvian, still working. We stepped through it to Crossroads, and from there, to another place. I don't know how to call it. It was..between places. Not here in this word, and not in Fade. High Keeper was there waiting for me. I had thought that he wanted to hear my story about finding eluvians, but as soon as I understood that my great find was something they already knew better than I did, I knew he had to have some other reason.", Lavellan stopped and sat down on the sofa.

"He asked me a series of questions, very odd things. They were almost..philosophical. Ethical riddles. He described a dilemma, and told me to choose right judgement. Over and over again. He asked me to cast all spells I knew, nodding to himself. And finally he bound a scarf over my eyes, so I couldn't see, and told me to hold my right hand with palm open. He placed something on my hand, a round thing, with uneven surface, and asked how I felt, if there was pain. I felt nothing, but I could hear a very faint sound coming from that thing. I told him that, and he took it away. He sounded pleased when he told I could take the scarf off. Then he said that he was my father, and one day Mythal would call me to make a great sacrifice for the sake of the People.", her voice was shaken. "I didn't know what to think, and I blurted out the first thing in my mind. I asked was that why I didn't get to choose my vallaslin like all others. My Keeper had simply said that this was my mark when she decided I was old enough to have one. High Keeper, my father, smiled and said that he had chosen it for me. Then he sent me away."  
She could not understand why Solas looked so furious. Last time she had seen him angry like that was when the Kirkwall mages had bound his friend, causing the spirit of Wisdom twist into a demon. He had killed those mages. His expression had been much like the one he wore now.  
"When the messenger came, he looked like High Keeper's hunters.", Ellana licked her dry lips, nervous."And after he had given me news about Corypheus and Arlathven, he said that he had a personal message for me from my father. _Elvhen isala na halam'shivanas, Keeper_."

 

_"The People need your sacrifice, Keeper."_

 

 


	18. Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas leaves for a time. Lavellan does what the Keepers do best; detective work with Morrigan's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for fun, Lavellan's notes mentioned in the chapter are at the end. 
> 
> And yes, Lavellan's suspicion of Solas' destination is not *that* far off. You'll see in next chapter.

Dorian was returning from taking a piss in the bushes behind the tavern, ready to continue late night revelry with Inner Circle, when he spied Solas and the Inquisitor descending the stairs from main keep. It was not an ordinary sight to see them anywhere after dark; it was commonly known that they slept more than any lovers had right to. The wrong, boring kind of sleeping, Dorian added.  


Solas was looking furious. He was striding down the stairs, two or three steps at the time, and Inquisitor had trouble keeping up with him. The curious thing was that he was wearing a full travel gear, complete with backpack and a bedroll tied over it.  
"Solas, please. I don't understand.", she pleaded in elven, her voice panicky. "Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to anger you."  
He stopped where he stood.  
"You haven't done anything wrong, vhenan. I need you to remember that.", he replied in same language.  
"But you are leaving in the middle of the night!"  
"I'm not angry at you.", he said, cupping her face in his hands. "You must trust me. There is something I have to do, and you can't come with me."  
Lavellan's eyes filled with tears, and she asked quietly:  
"Is it now? The duty you warned me about?"  
"This is of it, but the moment is not yet, vhenan.", Solas said gently. "We still have time. I will come back to you, I promise."  
"Is there something I can do to help you?", she asked.  
"There is one thing. Do not do anything your father or his lackeys ask of you. Not until I come back. Promise me, vhenan. You deserve more than that.", the anger crept back in his voice.  
"You are asking me to act against everything I was taught.", she said in small voice.  
"I know.", he said, trying his best to control his temper. "But everything you were taught about history of my People are lies. It did not happen like the Dalish think. If you remove the layer of nostalgia from stories of elven gods, you might see the danger. They were arrogant and fickle. They warred amongst themselves. They had feuds, vendettas."  
Lavellan looked at him, lips trembling slightly, and then said:  
"I promise."  
"Thank you, vhenan. I know how hard it must be, but everything will be made clear when I come back. I'll meet you in the Arbor Wilds.", Solas said, and kissed her.

Dorian felt his knees going soft, and leaned against the tavern wall. Oh, that man could kiss! He had never expected such passion  from nondescript apostate elf who didn't even have hair. That must be why Lavellan fancied him. And why they slept all the time. Fade sex, the little voice in his mind suggested. Definitely.

 

"What was that about?", Dorian asked after Solas had left to the gates. "That language of yours makes it hard to participate in discussion."  
"I don't know.", Lavellan shook her head, looking distraught. "I am not sure, but I fear he is going to trash my father."  
"Do you like him? Your father, I mean."  
"Not particularly."  
"It's not a problem, then.", Dorian decided. "Believe me. I know all about horrible fathers. Mine tried to use blood magic to change me, like I told you. What did yours do?"  
"He wants me to sacrifice myself.", Lavellan replied.  
"Ah. What is it with fathers and blood magic, these days? Come. Only way to get over it is to get drunk.", Dorian said, taking her arm. "Not speaking about it helps, too."  


\--

 

"I'm wondering what kind of books have kept you so occupied in this room, sister?", Morrigan asked and picked up a book from her desk in the old library near atrium. "It's been over two weeks since your hedge mage lover left, and you have scarcely left this place. Dalish myth and collected truths against by sister Petrine. Treatise on the nature of spirits by First Enchanter Revana. And a paper full of partial sentences written in elven."  
"It doesn't just make sense.", Lavellan said quietly.  
"Let's see if I can assist you.", Morrigan said and started reading out loud. "Dirth ma, harellan. Tell me, trickster or traitor..."  
"No.". Lavellan shook her head. "I tell you, noble rebel."  
"Harellan means traitor to one's kin. Or have you forgotten your own language so quickly?", Morrigan asked.  
"It's in this book. A Treaty on the Pagan and Heretical Customs of the Elven, by Senallen Tavernier of the University of Orlais. Using harellan as traitor or trickster did not appear in any elven text before Towers Age.", Lavellan declared, flipping through the pages. "Here. The ancient root-word is related to 'harillen', opposition, and 'hellathen', noble struggle."  
"So would it make Fen'Harel a god of rebellion instead of a god of deception?", Morrigan asked.  
"Yes.", Lavellan said. "Translate the next sentence. Ma banal enasalin."  
"Your victory is nothing” or “Your victory amounts to nothing."  
"I would have translated it as 'you have no comfort in your loss.", Lavellan murmured, writing furiously on the paper.  
"What kind of vocabulary you are using?", Morrigan shook her head. "You used to offer reasonable translations during our quest."  
Lavellan could not answer that one, because she did not know. Her fluent elven was taught to her by Solas, and he had not been interested in schematics of language. He spoke it instead of deciphering it based on familiar words, like Morrigan or the Dalish.  
"Next sentence. Mar solas ena mar din.", Lavellan said. "Your pride is dead."  
"Your pride makes it appear you are not. Or, if used as a noun like your lover's name, 'It appears that this Solas is not. Or, like we could say in current situation, It appears this Solas is no more.", Morrigan replied. "I sometimes wonder if ancient elves were vague like this on purpose. Maybe they enjoyed playing games."  
"I think you might be right. If they had spells which took centuries to cast, they would have had time to create riddles.", Lavellan sighed.  
"If you don't mind, I would like to read this lexicon.", Morrigan took Tavernier's work. "It could prove useful when we enter Arbor Wilds and temple of Mythal."  
"What?"  
"I finally found my old notes from the time we planned our search. The temple in Arbor Wilds is dedicated to Mythal.", Morrigan said.

 

After Morrigan left, the Inquisitor stayed behind in library, staring at her notes. If Dalish Keepers and Firsts excelled in something, it was recalling discussions, stories and poems word-for-word. The traditions passed down were oral, and it would not do to make mistakes. Being able to look through her own memories in Fade had confirmed the few bits and pieces which she might have missed otherwise.

She knew that she was on edge of a revelation here. The uneasy feeling had tormented her ever since he left so suddenly, and slipped those words in the yard. She was a Keeper, trained to piece together mysteries, and she could no longer keep her eyes shut. Not when she felt unsure about everything she believed in. She trusted him, had no reason not to, and he had said everything she had been taught about was a lie.

It would have been harder to believe Solas if Lavellan did not already know that the truth about fall of the Dales was not the story she had been taught. Or that her great find of eluvian was not a discovery at all, merely something a different group of elves, secretly ruling over the Dalish Keepers, were keeping to themselves.  
  
After he left, she had started to question everything. Her meeting with High Keeper had been like a fragment of odd dream for so long, unreal thing she had never told to anyone. Speaking about it had raised questions, which kept bothering her. Why nobody knew about High Keeper except Keepers? What was the significance of Mythal's vallaslin on her face? If it was truly a sign of reverence to a god, why couldn't she choose which god to revere? It was supposed to be an individual choice, so how could her father make it for her and Keeper simply let him?

If the Dalish were the heirs of ancient legacy; sworn to be unbent, unbowed, unbroken, why their Keepers, the guardians of old lore, let a cult of advanced elves order them around in secret? When her People had agreed to this?

What would happen if she spoke about this in Arlathvhen and started asking questions?

She took her notes and started feeding papers to open flame, watching silently as they burnt into ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan's notes.  
> \---  
> Everything you were taught about history of my People are lies.  
> It did not happen like the Dalish think.  
> If you take the legend away from Arlathan, you might not find it very different. [than dalish at their worst.]  
> It is not your fault that they lack understanding of how things should be. Among ancient elves, it took centuries to grow into adulthood.  
> I tell you, noble rebel, you have no comfort in your loss. Your pride is dead. 
> 
> Mythal would have found this very humorous.  
> Even the rulers of Arlathan had hard time coming back once they were twisted away from their original purpose, and the results were often catastrophic.  
> I can't make a wolf as magnificent as yours, Solas.  
> Are you saying Dirthamen wasn't fashionable? Depends on whom you would ask from.  
> If you remove the layer of nostalgia from stories of elven gods, you might see the danger. They were arrogant and fickle. They warred amongst themselves. They had feuds, vendettas.
> 
> The important thing to remember is to look beyond the simple concepts of good and bad.  
> \---
> 
> The crystal towers. Somniari crown. Elves as spirits.  
> Obviously older than Dales, uses words older than Tower Age.  
> Personal remarks about Creators. Laughes heartily at Mythal&staff-joke. Says it was true.  
> Some of the foci belonged to gods of the pantheon. Whose I held?  
> How he could know how to stop it from killing me?
> 
> POSSIBLE CONCLUSION: Nightmare baited, but didn't lie. The demon knew. All those wolves in frescoes, his true shapeshifting form, the jawbone necklace.
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE TO SELF: Fen'Harel changing from god of noble rebellion into god of trickery somewhere between the fall of Dales (2:20 Glory Age) and the Tower Age seventy years later. Emerald Knights with their wolf companions. Endless wolf statues in the Dales.  
> Has the interpretation been something very different before?
> 
> FINAL CONCLUSION: Dealing with High Keeper is more important than whether my fixed term husband or whatever - don't know the correct title - is an ancient elven god or not. If he _is_ a god of rebellion, he might have useful advice.


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas confronts Mythal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For musical soundtrack, I recommend "She is my sin" by Nightwish for the first, angry part. The lyrics match nicely.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSsTS6c8KOU
> 
> Angsty part: "That's a nice day" from We were soldiers OST. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAmhmcRFbgQ

"Mythal!", Solas shouted. "Mythal! I know you are here. Stop hiding and answer me!"  
"How can I answer to questions you have not yet asked, dear boy?", an old human woman came to door. It was hut in a middle of swamp in Korcari Wilds.   
"Stop playing with me. You know why I am here.", he warned, unwilling to hold back a growl rising from his throat.  
"How could I know, Dread Wolf? I haven't seen you in centuries, and now you are here, uninvited. You broke through my defenses, shout in my lovely yard and growl at me. What an old woman like me could possibly have done to anger you so?", Mythal asked with fake concern.  
"Drop the act, Mythal. This is no lovely yard, it's a swamp, and you are no innocent old woman.You know full well why I am here. _Call off your priest_."  
"Ah.", Mythal said after a short silence. "I think this debate is not one which can be solved with us standing in the yard. Come in. And do try to close the door behind you calmly, dear. The wood is fragile, and the swamp is full of mosquitoes."

 

She made him sit on a wooden box while she busied herself with making tea. Solas did not want tea. He detested the stuff.  
"Do you want biscuits?", Mythal asked. They both knew very well this charade had nothing to do with hospitality and everything to do with giving time for her magic to work. Mythal's gift had always been her ability to soothe anger in others, to bring them back to their original nature from darker paths they took. She had seen into hearts of People, knowing spirits of her petitioners often better than they themselves did.  
"I would prefer having your High Keeper instead of biscuits.", Solas snapped.  
"What has he done to offend you so much?", Mythal asked.   
"You know what he has done. I doubt your priest so much as lifts his fingers without you knowing of it. The geas you use to bind others to your will is disgusting, and you will not make the Inquisitor to drink from Well of Sorrows."  
"The Inquisitor is the problem, here?", Mythal arched her eyebrows. "Interesting. I have never met the girl."  
"She is not your pawn.", Solas replied acidly. "Stop haunting her. I know you are after her, you have chased her for years. I unbound the spirit you sent to watch her, and I will send your High Keeper to Beyond as easily if you do not tell him to leave her alone."  
"Why?", she asked. "You know as well as I that recovering your orb is of utmost importance. The blight of elves grows worse each passing year. No matter how hard they fight to stay alive, they are the twilight children of this age. Each year, their numbers wane, and the magic of old dies with them. For each elven life lost, the taint gains ground, corrupting lyrium and everything it touches. The partnership of me and Flemeth has been long, and she has served me well. But this body is human, and I can't hear the song with these ears. My orb remains silent, unresponsive, and I can't help you. Our time grows short. The final confrontation with Corypheus draws near, and she must win that fight, and you must have your orb back. If she drinks from the Well, there is no risk."  
"I know that.", Solas said. "But you can't have her. She is.. She is too precious to be sacrificed in that way. She deserves better than that. She is not a plaything for gods."  
The look on Mythal's face changed, becoming one of motherly amusement.  
"Oh, my grumpy wolf. You have a crush on her. Like a foolish youth, you barge here, spitting anger and biting at everyone getting too near to your prey."  
"It's not a crush.", Solas said defiantly, studying the tasteless biscuit in his hand. "And she is not my prey. She is my equal, my.. I offered her the crown of shadows and stars, and she accepted it. You have no claim over her. Even you must follow the laws. She did not choose to be your slave, she did not choose vallaslin, and therefore she is free. You cannot force her to do your bidding.", he said, looking Mythal in the eye. "If your priest tries, I will cut him down."  
"I did not expect something like this from you, Dread Wolf.", Mythal shook her head slowly, with a smile on her lips. "All that disdain towards what People became, all that rage, and yet you sit here and tell me you gave your bond to one of the Dalish. What wonders this age holds!"  
Taking a sip of her tea, Mythal said:  
"I accept your claim, Dread Wolf, but there is another angle to be considered. You say that you do not want her to be a pawn. If that is what you want for her, how can you deny her freedom to choose her fate? Drinking from my Well might be a bad choice, but if she does not have ability to choose, she will be a slave still - only yours instead of mine, and it is a state which leaves no room for feeling like love. If you haven't told her who you truly are, how you are any better than I? We both lure her towards our own ends. You are nothing but a pot calling the kettle black."  
Mythal looked at Solas' face growing pale, and took his hand gently.  
"If you truly wish her to be free from being a pawn in our game, you must let her choose her fate at the well, and then leave her. There will be no freedom for her, ever, if you remain at her side. When we release the others, they will burn with their anger, and without my orb, my powers are only a shadow of what they were. I cannot hold them back. I cannot protect you, and still we have no other choice but to free them because the People need us, and this world needs the People to survive the Blight. Do you truly want to turn the wrath of Elgar'nan on her? He would do it. As long as she is with you, she will never be free, and you know it."  
"I know it.", Solas admitted, closing his eyes.  
"Let me propose a truce, then. I will tell High Keeper not to influence her any way when she comes to my temple. I will stay out of it. Nobody will force her to drink from the well. But as a price for my cooperation, I want you to think of this, for the sake of your spirit. You can't want freedom for everyone and deny it from one you love the most. If you continue on such path, it will take you only deeper to the roads of Pride, and you will be no use to our People. I already have seven lost souls to guide back if we are ever to win this fight, and enough trouble with my own hunger for vengeance. I don't want have one more."   
  


Mythal sighed as she watched Fen'Harel leaving her yard. The defeat was evident on dropped shoulders and the sad look on his face. He had arrived full of anger, ready to fight for what he held dear, but all that had been bled away from him.   
It was not a thing she had enjoyed, but all this was necessary. Mythal had broken him to break her, and they both would be too deep in heartbreak to understand her true goals before it would be too late. Halam'shivanas. Sweet sacrifice of duty. A truest word ever said.


	20. Temple of Mythal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inquisition finds a temple which does not make Solas or Lavellan happy. Dorian does not understand why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For music lovers, this is my Abelas theme.  
> Wings of Icarus by Celldweller.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BfQgTz_znn0

Solas found her in the middle of a camp, listening report from officer. He heard the soldier telling about red templars fighting hard and sightings of Corypheus moving towards north, but all he could see was her. Fear and ghosts of future hurt filled his heart, and he didn't know what to say.  
"Solas", she noticed him. She gave him one of her serious smiles and said:  
"The route to temple of Mythal has been almost cleared. I was merely waiting for you."  
"Have you had any troubles while I was gone?", he asked. Mythal was not one usually to go back on her word, but he had to be sure.  
"The Dalish have gathered to Arbor Wilds, but they are in southwest. There have been no more messengers or anything, but.. When we have dealt with Corypheus, there is something we must discuss in private. I need your advice on important matter.", she said.  
"If it is within my area of expertise, I'm happy to help.", he offered.  
"I think it is, my love.", she said, taking his arm and waving at Cassandra who was approaching with Dorian. "But it must wait until later."

 

Fighting their way through the forest was not easy. Lavellan's hand was aching by the time she saw a narrow passageway in a yard filled with statues of gods. A stone wolf was guarding the door. Always wolves. She rubbed the anchor while catching her breath.  
"You shouldn't do that.", Solas reminded her. "It could break the bindings and start spreading again."  
"It hurts. Too many marks of rift.", Lavellan said, biting her lip. "Dorian, would you mind?"  
"Of course.", Dorian promised and cast a thin layer of ice over her outstretched palm. Lavellan shivered with cold, but straightened her back and started moving forwards again. She could hear sounds of fighting ahead.  
"Corypheus must be there. Prepare yourselves.", Cassandra warned.

They almost ran into Corypheus and Samson who were facing a group of elves. The realization hit Lavellan like a stonefist. These elves were not Dalish, or part of any known force of Thedas. For first time in her career of searching temples, she had found one which was not filled by grave robbers but elves of High Keeper. The armors were the same, and the vallaslin on their faces were identical to one tattooed on her forehead.  
"Na melana sur, banallen!", the elf rasped.  
"What is he saying?", Morrigan hissed.  
"We're facing Corypheus and you want translations?", Lavellan whispered. "If you absolutely must know, he says 'Your time ends, Blighted one!'"  
"They still think to fight us, Master.", Samson said, grinning.  
"These are but remnants. They will not keep us from the Well of Sorrows.", Corypheus replied.  
"Well of Sorrows?", Lavellan whispered to Morrigan, who shrugged, not knowing what Corypheus was talking about. Apparently Morrigan's theory of eluvians had been wrong.

Corypheus threw a corpse of an elf on the ground and started walking towards the group of defenders who retreated on the bridge connecting temple to world beyond it. Water circled it on all sides. Lavellan hoped fervently that Corypheus did not wreck it. The entrance to bridge was decorated with two dragon statues.  
"Be honored! Witness death at the hands of new god!", Corypheus announced.  
The statues started to shine with blue light, and Lavellan felt the familiar eerie call of ancient elven magic. She threw herself down on her stomach, and others followed her suit just in time when the statues overcharged and exploded.

The explosion left her ears ringing for a while. When she stood up, she saw Samson with his men running over the bridge and vanishing inside the temple. Lavellan picked her way carefully among the dead elves, searching for familiar faces, but so far, none of them were her father's hunters. Then Morrigan's gasp drew her attention. One of the Corypheus' Grey Wardens, a dead man, had risen to his knees and was vomiting black blood all over the stones.  
"It cannot be!", Morrigan exclaimed.  
When Lavellan saw a bony, long hand appearing from inside the corpse and heard too familiar screech of Corypheus' dragon, she felt hopeless. If the ancient elven magic could not kill Corypheus, how could she? But there was no time to think, if she was going to survive.  
"Across the bridge, now!", Lavellan commanded and started to run.

\--

As soon as the temple doors closed behind them, Cassandra started arguing with Morrigan about their goal. She was not pleased to hear Morrigan didn't know anything about Well of Sorrows or that Corypheus did not seem to want eluvian after all. Lavellan didn't pay them any mind. Corypheus was here, and they had heard him saying he wanted the Well of Sorrows, whatever it was. Trying to blame others about not being able to guess Corypheus' every move was unreasonable, and Morrigan pointed it out to Cassandra before Lavellan had took more than few steps towards the stairs.

The temple courtyard was green, alive with the chirping of birds and water flowed in small streams under the decorated stone bridges. There were waterfalls and trees, and Lavellan could only look around in wonder. Even if she knew Corypheus was behind her back, trying to find a way in through the magically sealed doors of the temple, she was wistful and pleased to have seen this. If the world of ancient elves had been like this, and her world was just full of dark ruins like Dirthamen's temple, she could not help but to feel sad. Uniformity of the Chantry, with it's painted statues and candle-lit stone halls, had never called to her, and after seeing this, Lavellan doubted it ever could. It was too foreign.

They walked down the stairs and reached an enclosed area built of carved tiles. A column with ancient elven written over it stood nearby, and Lavellan went to it, following the letters with careful fingers.  
"Atish'all Vir Abelasan. It means 'Enter the path of the well of sorrows.'", Solas said.  
He had been quiet for most of the journey, not like in other temples where he had been quick to offer advice and insight. Lavellan did not know if it was the difference of seeing finally something alive instead of ruins after ruins, or did he have something troubling his mind. Maybe both. She wanted to ask, but this was not the time or place.  
"There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure. Shiven, shivennen...", Morrigan muttered.  
"What is this place?", Dorian asked.  
"It is where they paid fealty to the gods. I have seen it. In the Fade. Only the reverent were permitted to touch this ground, and only in solemn contemplation.", Solas explained.  
"This was a pilgrim's path. Walking it may aid in entry.", Morrigan mused and stepped on a stone tile.  
Nothing happened. She walked around the circle of tiles and sighed.  
"I thought the magic in the temple would still be strong. One could almost feel it tingling on skin."  
"No. There is nothing wrong with magic.", Lavellan said. "It says here: Let fly your voice to Mythal, deliverer of justice, protector of sun and earth alike. A great boon is given to those who use the well of sorrows, but at a terrible price."  
"Is it something else than quite bad attempt at rhyming?", Dorian asked.  
"The last sentence is obviously a warning, but the first part about letting your voice to fly to Mythal is a clue. It is one of the religious dances of the Dalish, with four stanzas. Hopefully not too far from the original.", Lavellan said, taking the staff from her back and handing it to Morrigan.  
"Are you truly going to perform a ritual to appease elven gods? Long-dead or no, I don't like it.", Cassandra asked as they found the second set of carved tiles.  
"The Dalish believe that ignoring Mythal is never wise.", Lavellan said simply. "The magic here is real, and we have to find what Corypheus seeks before he does. I have done this many times, in less grand surroundings."  
She was unsure when she lifted up her hands in starting position and took the first step, but she was rewarded with a flash of blue magic lighting up the tile and a haunting sound. It was not so different than dancing with Keeper Istimaethoriel for the glory of Mythal.  
"Dancing for the power in it's purest form.", Morrigan mused as Lavellan finished her round, and the tiles glowed blue. "Far more interesting than what they do in the Winter Palace."  
"Less useful, perhaps.", Dorian suggested.  
"That depends entirely what one is after.", Morrigan replied.

 

"Why would this be here?", Morrigan asked as they climbed stairs up to chamber adjoining the temple courtyard. A second set of carved tiles was nearby, not yet lightened up.  
"Is something wrong?", the Inquisitor queried, well aware that they had stopped in front of Fen'Harel's statue.  
"It depicts the Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel. In elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves away into Beyond for all time. Setting Fen'Harel in Mythal's greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry.", Morrigan shook her head.  
"I would give him a benefit of doubt.", Lavellan said. "We already discussed the meaning of his name changing after fall of the Dales."  
"Since when you have defended the evil god of your pantheon?", Morrigan asked.  
"I'm merely saying that godhood might look different from the inside. Who knows what kind of stories will be told about me in next Age or two? Savior of elves of Orlais, or a cursed knife-ear who killed the good empress Celene and sent her own people to ruin? Herald of blessed Andraste, or an heretical elf who threatened to destroy Chantry by her deceit? It all depends on future, which is not within my reach. I'm not a god, but there are people out there who swear I am, and also those who claim I eat human children for a breakfast and tie my hair with their entrails.", Lavellan replied. "Leliana's people say that there are at least seven small village chantries with statues of me in Orlais, and thinking of what future generations will make of them does not sit well with me."  
"So you would give him a benefit of doubt, like you say, because that is what you wish for yourself. It's a naive, wasted sentiment, sister.", Morrigan stated dryly.  
"For all your 'knowledge', lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving a legend a weight of history. The wise do not mistake one for another.", Solas said coldly.  
"Pray tell, what meaning does our elven 'expert' sense lurking behind this?", Morrigan asked, her voice sharp.  
"None we can discern by staring at it.", Solas quipped.  
"It is best if we moved forwards.", Lavellan decided.

  
Fourth part of pilgrim's path meant more tiles and more disagreements.  
"Doesn't it bother you?", Dorian asked from Lavellan as Morrigan and Solas were drawn yet to another argument about elven gods. This time, it was Mythal and whether she had been a goddess at all.  
"You would admit the lack of knowledge and still dismiss her so readily?", Solas asked from Morrigan as Cassandra stood silently, her lips moving in prayer. The temple made Seeker feel uncomfortable.  
"The bickering? I would have preferred them to get along, but it's obvious it is not going to happen."  
"I meant Morrigan giving us lectures about elven gods and history. I thought all this was your job.", Dorian's waving hand encompassed the whole temple. "Shouldn't it be you telling all those things?"  
"Once I would have.", Lavellan admitted quietly. "But right now, I'm not quite sure what to believe. There are.. things, Dalish things I don't want to be true, questions which I have to take to clan meeting, and to be honest, I dread the answers. I'm having a crisis of faith."  
"Ah. It is hard thing, to lose one's faith in his own people. Maybe losing faith is wrong expression. It's more like seeing them in a way I never wanted to.", Dorian sighed. "But you should go and break up the fighting lovers again. Solas is really cranky today. I thought he would have loved this place, but evidently he doesn't."  
"The oldest accounts say that Mythal was both of justice and vengeance, and neither. She was the Mother, protective and fierce. That is all I will say. This is not a place to stir up old stories.", Solas was just saying to Morrigan.  
"Whatever the truth, all accounts of Mythal...", Morrigan continued.  
"Let's just move on.", Lavellan said, turning from vestibule towards the inner parts of the temple. The great double doors were slightly ajar, waiting for them.

 ---

"I wonder what this chamber was used for..", Morrigan muttered as they entered a great room. A thin layer of dust covered everything, but like the rest of the temple, it was in good repair. Something was moving in the shadows in the back of the room.  
"We're being watched.", Lavellan said, and she heard a faint puff of smoke behind her.  
"There are elves aiming their bows at us.", Cassandra said. "What do we do, Inquisitor?"  
Lavellan did not reply, but waited. The figure came closer to the railing of upper floor. He was an armored man, hood shadowing his face, but Lavellan recognized that long face and yellow eyes.  
"An etha, emma len. Mi reth’en sulana lin ma.", he said to her.  
Be safe here, my child. These blades safely sing with my blood.  
"What is he saying?", Morrigan demanded.  
"It is a greeting, and a warning, shemlen. I am called Abelas. We are sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground.", her father said, his voice crisp and cool. "We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our numbers diminish with each invasion. I know what you seek. Like all who have come before, you wish to drink from the Vir'Abelasan."  
"He speaks of the well!", Morrigan turned to whisper to Lavellan.  
"It is not for you. It is not for any of you.", Abelas stated with the air of finality, turning his yellow eyes on Lavellan again.  
"There are invaders who seek to despoil the Well of Sorrows as we speak. You completed the rituals and showed respect to Mythal. Now your People call for your help in their hour of need. Tell me, child, what is the Keeper's duty?"

She wanted to say they were not her people. She wanted to ask what they truly were, and what they were doing with the Dalish. She wanted to deny whatever he wanted from her, but something held her back.  
Looking at her father, and glancing back at Solas who was as tense as a coiled spring, Lavellan swallowed. If she denied these elves now, looked at them with disdain, it would never stop. Solas looked down at the Dalish, talking about how misled children they were. Dalish despised the city elves, saying they had given up and sold their freedom to shemlen. The main problem with elves was not the shemlen. It was the scorn they felt against each other. As long as it continued, as long as one group was ready to declare the other weren't their People, the elves would never rise again. Scattered as they were, they would die, and everything Lavellan had been raised to hold dear, would be lost forever.  
A benefit of doubt. She could give her father that much. If she had given it to Solas, no matter what he was, she should give it to her father. She had to.

"Keeper remembers what others have forgotten. She preserves what was, and guards it to pass it on. Her People will die to protect her, and she is a sacrifice for the People. Through her, the People endure.", Lavellan forced the words out.  
"A child lost in the dark you may be, but you have learned the most important lesson.", Abelas replied, his manner softening slightly, or maybe it was just imagination. "As a guardian of the Well, I must ask you. We fight a common enemy who has breached the sacred grounds. Will you assist your People to fight the invaders?"  
"Of course we will help you.", Lavellan said before Morrigan had time to disagree. "We are here to stop Corypheus."  
"Sister, you are a fool!", Morrigan cried out. "The well is too important to risk! We need that knowledge!"  
"I will not see my people needlessly butchered if I have power to save them!", Lavellan snapped, her fear turning into anger. "By stopping Samson we will keep the well from Corypheus, and save as many sentinels in process as we can. It is my duty."  
"It is not your duty, you idiot! These are not your people. These are just some ancient elves who order you around, smug in their supremacy. They deliberately want to keep you from learning, from gaining the power to stop Corypheus!"  
"All elves are my People. The divide must end. Otherwise we have no future.", Lavellan said firmly, turning back to Abelas.  
"Show us the way. We are ready."  
  
From the corner of her eye, she saw Morrigan's form shifting. Lavellan knew her, had expected something like this when she denied the well from her. As the witch turned into a bird and rose on her wings, Lavellan hit her with a dispel spell, drawing tendrils of Fade through the Veil to empower it. The bird changed in the middle of the flight, squeaking, and Morrigan dropped on the floor at Abelas' feet.  
"It was most.. timely, daughter.", he said, pressing his foot on Morrigan to hold her down.  
"Morrigan. You signed up to be my arcane advisor. You are my friend, and I respect your opinion, but you cannot go against my decisions on the field.", the Inquisitor said sharply. "We will ally ourselves with sentinels to fight Corypheus. Cassandra, keep eye on her."

 

  
"Is that your father?", Dorian asked as they moved to follow Abelas, who was already walking through a doorway.  
"Yes.", Lavellan replied reluctantly.  
"Your father is much better looking than mine.", the Tevinter said, twirling his finger round his mustache, deep in thought. "Very tall for an elf. Long limbs and almost imperial nose. I like haughty men."  
"No, Dorian.", Lavellan hissed and picked up speed, joining Abelas at the front.  
"What is it with you two?", Dorian asked from Solas. "You are as cranky as a Rage demon who accidentally drank iced wine, and she claims to have a crisis of faith. I thought you would be over a top to find a temple with living elves inside."  
"It is complicated.", Solas said. "I do not wish to speak of it."  
"So you went to trash her father, and it didn't go as planned?", Dorian didn't take the hint. "It's no reason to just give up! Look at me and Bull! We're supposed to hate each other. I'm a 'vint, and he's a giant ox man. It can't get much worse than those odds, and still we prevail. Yes, it might be harder to cling to a living thing since you two are accustomed to wandering in dreams and ruins and practically having sad memories of lost things for breakfast, but maybe you both should try that for a change."

 

"I never expected you to return here wearing Somniari crown.", Abelas said in elven as they walked along the empty corridors of temple. The Inner Circle was keeping their distance from Inquisitor and Abelas, probably for shemlen idea of respecting familial bonds.  
"He apparently taught you the language, but did he ever tell you what he is?"  
Lavellan felt unwell. This was not discussion she wanted to have. Not with man she had seen only once, and who was as unfamiliar to her as she was to her own son. And especially not with Solas only a few meters behind her.  
"I pieced it together myself some days ago. This is not the time to yell at me for forsaking my duties as a Keeper, father. He deserves a benefit of doubt."  
It was hard to think that long face and yellow eyes could ever look pleased, much less that she had actually seen him smile. Once. Definitely not now.  
"Fen'Harel had nothing to do with Mythal's murder. You would do well to look past the stories of Dalish since you have decided to bind your fate to his. I have been ordered not to influence your decisions in any way, but Mythal told me that her agreement does not stop me from giving 'few words of fatherly advice'.", he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. "For what they might be worth."  
Lavellan's mind was a mess. Solas, Fen'Harel. Mythal was murdered, not locked away. Mythal, somehow speaking to his father, who claimed to be an ancient elf slumbering most of his time inside temple and guarding an artifact, instead of ruling over Dalish like she had thought. Had she been wrong? There were no stories of High Keeper. Her own Keeper knew only that one called that existed, that he was older than he should be, and even his name had been lost in the rivers of time. If Solas was real, would it make Mythal real, and all the rest of them?  
"Had you been raised here instead of being given to the Dalish, you would know your history instead of being left alone to stumble in the dark. None of the ones born after the Veil can understand what Mythal was truly like in the height of her power, but those few things which still remain of it, are not less binding than they were in my youth."  
"Are you talking about Well of Sorrows?", Lavellan asked.  
"That, and more.", Abelas said. "There is too little time to make you understand, but I will tell you this. I was tasked guarding this temple before Mythal was betrayed. When we closed the doors, Elvhenan had already started fighting among themselves, and it led to our ruin. Me and my sentinels wake up from our slumber only to do her will, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It was my choice to do this, and it will be your choice to decide if you make the sacrifice for the sake of People. Vallaslin I wear is not a mark for slavery, as _he_ might claim. For me, it is a servitude I chose freely. I was not a slave marked by a noble to pay homage to a god he served, and neither are you. Ours was the family of priests."  
"Vallaslin and slavery?", Lavellan's voice rose, her nervousness breaking through. "What are you talking about? I don't understand anything you say, father. It's not slavery, it's a-- It's what the Dalish are. What I am. And slavery - it is everything we stand against, father! Everything we swore never to be. Unbent, unbroken, unbowed. It cannot be. _I have made them_ on the faces of the young in my clan, as a sign of reverence and adulthood. They can't be _undone_."  
The child was shaking now, her blue eyes full of shock and hurt. Abelas pitied her, truly, but he would not let his last living child to walk to the Well of Sorrows thinking that she knew everything and simply could bend the power of well under her will. Mythal could forbid him from influencing Ellana's decision whether to drink or not, but she had not denied him from offering other truths, no. It was probably precisely what Mythal had meant with her quip about fatherly advice. Truth was not the end, it was only beginning which brought more questions with each step.  
"Inquisitor.", the shemlen woman soldier came to them. "Are you all right?"  
"Yes.", his daughter said, collecting herself with great difficulty. "Samson must be near. Let's go."  
Following the Inquisitor and her companions, Abelas bore the dark look Fen'Harel gave him, unflinching.

 

It told a lot about Inquisitor's state of mind that fighting against Samson and his red templars was actually a relief. She would have taken two dozen red templars gladly if the second option was another discussion with Abelas. Standing back to back with Solas, feeling his familiar magic settle as a barrier over her while she created a cage to hold back the templars was the only thing which made sense to her in this place. Lavellan twisted the Veil inside the cage to draw templars towards the center, and Dorian threw a fireball on them.  
But then it was over. She saw wounded sentinels walking away, and Abelas announced they would throw Samson outside the temple so Inquisition could take him back to Skyhold for judgement. Only one thing remained. The threat of Corypheus.

 

"You must know Corypheus will only send more people as soon as we are gone from this place.", Morrigan said to Abelas. "Your sanctuary will be despoiled, and Corypheus will win. You say the well isn't for any of us, but is Corypheus any better? If you destroy it, you will take our last chance for victory."  
"Better it to be lost than bestowed upon undeserving.", Abelas said, his voice unfriendly. "You have made your wishes known. The fate of well is not your decision to make."  
"Then whose is it? Yours?", Morrigan asked. "I tell you, I will not allow you to destroy--"  
"Hers.", Abelas nodded towards Inquisitor. "She completed the rites of Mythal, and chose to save her People instead of blindly seeking power. Mythal was our Great Protector. Anyone following the path laid out for her faithful must not aim to be anything less."  
"It's nice to know that good deeds pay off sometimes.", Dorian announced.  
Solas silently disagreed as Abelas climbed to the well, stone stairs appearing in his footsteps. He felt dread looking at Ellana following the sentinel. She was not herself. Something that accursed priest had said to her during the short walk through the silent corridors had given her the same numb look she had worn when she had gotten the news about her clan. Her spirit, usually silent yet bright, was shadowed now, curled inside her to shield from hurt.

 

"The well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford not to use it?", Morrigan asked.  
Abelas shook his head slowly.  
"Do you even know what you ask, shemlen? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass on their knowledge.. through this. All that we were. All that we knew. It would be lost forever."  
"Father, it is already gone.", Lavellan said sadly.  
"It is.", Abelas replied, bowing his head for a moment before he continued:  
"Vir'Abelasan might be too much for mortal to comprehend. Brave it if you must, but know this: you shall be forever bound to the will of Mythal."  
"Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?", Morrigan  
"Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours.", Abelas said.  
"What will you do after the well is no more? Where will you go?", Lavellan asked.  
"Once you drink, nothing holds us here. There are other duties, other places. But this choice is yours, emma len. I will leave you to make it.", Abelas said, and left.

Lavellan looked at the well. It was a more like pond, calm and beautiful on the surface, but there was something below. She crouched down, almost touching the surface of water, and closed her eyes to concentrate.  
"I do not like this. You are far too eager.", Cassandra said to Morrigan.  
"I do not hide it. To restore lost knowledge, I would risk much."  
"And what would you do with it? You could be worse than Corypheus."  
"So paralyze yourself for fear of what might be? I can give nothing but my word.", Morrigan snapped. "Inquisitor! You have to make a decision. Corypheus is surely coming here, and if you linger here much longer, he will take the well while you are still sitting there."  
Lavellan stood up, shaking her head.  
"Don't you understand, Morrigan? Looking at it, listening to it... That is not just knowledge from the ancient elven priests. It's their will."  
"How would you know such a thing?", the witch asked.  
"That's what Abelas was telling us. The collective will of the priests puts anyone who drinks under a compulsion, a geas. Can't you feel it?"  
"That.. would match the legends, but it does not tell us what the geas entails. I would still drink.", Morrigan stated.  
"You are a glutton in a sight of the feast. You cannot be trusted.", Solas snapped.  
Lavellan looked at him, worrying. Something was obviously weighing on his mind. Solas had been acting strangely the whole time they had been in the temple; he was sharp, quick to anger. It was not like him at all.  
"Solas. What do you think we should do?", she asked.  
"Morrigan is right about only one thing: we should take the power which lies in that well.", he replied with heavy heart.  
The choice had to be hers; he could not say more. Thinking her as Mythal's creature turned his stomach, but Mythal had been clever with her words, setting a trap he could not avoid and still be what he was. If he chose for her now, she would not be free, and he would take another step towards darker paths he had once travelled. Solas knew he was still a creature of pride, but he could not go back to who he had been before his slumber. There was much to do, much to repent, and he would not add this to his list.

He did not want to look at her, but couldn't turn his head away either.  
"Morrigan. Have you thought what will happen to Kieran if this goes badly?", she asked.  
"This will not go badly."  
"That is not an answer.", the Inquisitor said. "We don't know that."  
"Sister, you cannot risk this either. If one starts to think carefully, there will always be a reason why something should not be done. You were fool enough to interrupt the rite of darkspawn magister because a shemlen woman cried for your help, and it changed you permanently. Can you honestly say you regret your choice? I know you don't, and the world is still standing because you took that risk. When varterrals attacked us in Cadash Thaigh, you shouted insults at them and told them off because you were convinced they should not harm elves. Thinking doesn't always help. There comes the time when one must simply leap and see what happens."  
Lavellan's lips curved in a small smile.  
"All right, Morrigan. The well is yours. And if something goes wrong.. Our old promise still stands."  
"I know, Inquisitor.", the witch smiled and walked into water.  
When Morrigan raised her cupped hands to her lips and drank, Solas felt almost giddy with relief.

Then he looked left, and saw Corypheus. Morrigan was just getting up, and the last sparkles of magic followed in her footsteps.  
"Corypheus is here. Through the eluvian, quickly!", he shouted.  
Morrigan activated the mirror, guiding it to return them to Skyhold, and motioned them to go. Solas ran through eluvian, pulling Lavellan by arm. He stumbled on stool someone had left in the middle of the floor and they both fell.  
"Are you all right?", Lavellan asked.  
Although he had bumped knees and few scratches, Solas told the truth when he answered to her.  
"Yes, vhenan. Everything is fine now."


	21. The glade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lavellan tells that she knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the most horrible and the loveliest chapter I've ever written for a story. I mean the last two lines of the chapter. They're perfect (in a horrible way).
> 
> If this chapter makes you sad, it might help if I tell that I had to watch *that* romance scene, six times in a row, pausing every few seconds to catch the dialogue. To make it even worse than it was takes some serious work!

"The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?", Solas asked from her as they walked to a glade in Crestwood, hand in hand. It was beautiful, clear night.  
"I do.", Lavellan said.  
The army and most of the Inner Circle were still on their way returning from Arbor Wilds, and Lavellan had decided to take some time off. She was upset over everything that had happened in Mythal's temple, and there was no chance to think it through as long as she remained in Skyhold. Someone was always tugging her sleeve or asking her opinion about something. So she had taken Solas with her and announced that they were going to check the Inquisition keep in Crestwood. Cassandra had just smiled and told her to enjoy.

"You have been quiet ever since we returned from temple of Mythal.", Solas mentioned.  
"Yes. I'm still trying to make sense of everything Abelas told me and I think I can't.", Lavellan shook her head. "The vallaslin is the worst. Calling myself a Keeper rings differently in my ears, now. It is no longer something to be proud of. It's the cruelest joke I've ever heard, and I am part of it. I've tried to count how many vallaslin I have made on others, and I _can't remember_. They trusted me when I told this was the Dalish way, and they should wear their markings proudly, as a sign that they would never submit to slavery again. I was their First, their mentor, guardian, and I marked my clansmen as slaves, Solas! This all, this whole thing I was supposed to be, what I've spent my whole life trying to be, is just some horrible, cruel joke! Saying I didn't know is not an excuse, because knowing these things was my job! My one job, and I failed spectacularly!"  
"I'm sorry.", Solas said quietly. He knew it would not help to calm her with lies, to say it wasn't her fault. Nothing stung deeper than good intentions gone wrong, and the hurt was his, too. One of the reasons he did not like the Dalish was vallaslin. It was mocking reminder of how little his sacrifices had bought. Worse, in it's own way, than stories of Fen'Harel. To combat them, he had memories of laughing at those tales with his fellow rebels, wondering what kind of propaganda they would hear next. It had started with tales about king's daughter and slow arrow, and while he slept, stories had taken a crueler turn, calling his desperate act "Great Betrayal". Godhood truly was different from the inside, like the Inquisitor had said to Morrigan at the temple of Mythal. If he hadn't loved her already, he might have fallen in love with her wisdom for those words alone.  
"Thank you, Solas.", she let out shuddering breath, and put a brave smile on her face. "I can't unmake what I've done. I just have to pick up the pieces and try again, until I get it right."  
"Just like that?"  
"Just like that. If we don't try, things will never get right."  
"You are never what I expect, vhenan.", he replied, touched. "You have impressed me. You have offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave, at some day, things will be better."  
  
Looking at her, and the purple vallasin on her forehead, everything suddenly locked in place in his mind. Yes.  
"I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me. I wanted to give you a gift, but not something unimportant, fleeting. You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me. More important than I could have imagined."  
"As you are to me.", she said softly.  
"I can't change the truth about vallaslin. But I can help you to start over again, much like you have helped me.", he said, unsure of what she would say. "I know a spell. I can remove the vallaslin. I look at you and I see what you truly are, and you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent."  
She did not hesitate.  
"Then cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away."  
"Sit", he said, smiling.

For a moment, all she could see was the magic, as he slowly moved his hands along her face. Lavellan did not feel any different, but she could see it from his face when he looked at her. The symbol of Mythal was gone.  
"Ar lasa mala revas. You are free."  
He held her hands as they stood up. Lavellan felt unsure, bare-faced, more naked than ever in her life, and she looked away.  
"You are so beautiful.", he whispered, driving her doubts away as he kissed her, holding her close.

When he pulled away, his face changed suddenly from happiness to sorrow, and Lavellan felt a sense of dread coming over her.  
"And I'm sorry.", Solas said. "I distracted you from duty. It will never happen again."  
He talked too quickly, the words following each other in panic.  
"Solas..", she said, letting go of him, her whole body cold with fear. She knew this feeling. The numbness of first moments after great hurt, before body realized what had happened. Before the pain started.  
"Please, vhenan.", he said, taking his first step away from her.  
She had promised herself to be strong. Not to make this more difficult for them both. She had promised herself not to cry, or beg him, but she failed every promise.  
"Solas. Fen'Harel. Do not leave me. Not like this. I love you.", she said, her voice breaking.  
But he shook his head, looking resolute.  
"You have rare and marvelous spirit. In another world..", he said.  
"Why not this one?", she asked. She knew she shouldn't have done it, she should have let go, but it hurt. Nobody had told her this would hurt so badly.  
"I _can't._ ", he said, raising his hands to keep her from touching him, still shaking his head, telling her no in every possible way.  
"I'm sorry."  
And then he turned away and left, leaving her alone by the waterfall.

\--

The night was fully dark now, the stars lost behind the clouds. She laid on the grass, curled in fetal position, and cried. She had cried for long enough to get a horrible headache, but it didn't stop. It was too much. Solas, the Dalish, gods, elves, everything. In few short days, she had lost everything she believed in. She was not a Herald of Andraste. She could not call herself a Keeper, knowing what it meant. She didn't have vallaslin, which meant she wasn't Dalish anymore. She was clanless, now, and could never have her son back. Zarel would never agree a mage child to be raised by bare-faced heretic who couldn't even call herself a Keeper. She had met her father, and lost him too. And then she had lost Solas. She had nothing left except her tears, and her desperation.  
She heard something, a sound of steps in the darkness, but sobs ragged her body and she didn't care to turn her head to see who it was. She knew Solas was not coming back.  
There was a soft chink of metal armor, and a comforting touch on her hair.  
"Once I was but a woman, crying in the lonely darkness for justice.", a motherly voice said to her.


	22. Halam'shivanas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> halam'shivanas = Loss of something personal for duty's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtracks!
> 
> For first two parts: A Taste of Something - The Man in the Iron Mask https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uNYgJhInguc  
> Then "Surrounded" from the same soundtrack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9EdPe510uo  
> And for the very last part, The Lost Temple theme from game soundtrack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEt2PMk0lVU

"Once I was but a woman, crying in the lonely darkness for justice.", a motherly voice said to her, sighing. "Some things never seem to change."  
  
"Let me tell you a story, dear girl. In the days of Arlathan, Mythal was the Great Protector, leading the Creators with Elgar'nan. Elgar'nan was the Eldest of Sun, and Mythal was his equal in every way. The People prospered, and the empire of Elvhenan was strong.", the unknown woman started, sitting down on the stone near her. "But there was one other, who was jealous of Mythal's power and her position. Andruil's heart was wild, and she reveled in art of hunting. As the years passed, Andruil's ambitions grew, and even Ghillan'nain could not come up with new creatures for her to hunt. She wanted to find something new, something to challenge her and prove her over Mythal, and so she entered the Void to battle Forgotten Ones."  
"During her battles, Andruil found a dark shard from the Void, something unseen. She took it back to city in the sky with her, and started to craft little things from it. Arrows, first, for her hunting. She gifted a knife made of it to Elgar'nan, in hopes of gaining his favor. She gave gifts to each and every god except Mythal, whom she hated, and Fen'Harel, who had scorned Andruil's favors and tricked her. Slowly, the dark thing started to corrupt and twist the minds of Creators. They turned away from what they had been, becoming something else, darker. Falon'Din wanted so many followers that he started killing People to gain more spirits. Mythal rallied all the Creators, and bloodied Falon'Din in his own temple to stop him. Elgar'nan's rages got worse than ever, and Mythal had to beat him in a fight to calm him down, when previously all he had needed was her quiet touch on his brow."  
"Andruil saw what was happening, but she was too far gone to understand the danger. She craved not for hunt, but for sacrifice, and to have that, she asked June to build her an armor from the dark thing. Armored in Void, she descended upon People. Unable to watch the massacre, Fen'Harel called them to rebel, while Mythal turned into dragon and challenged Andruil into fight to draw her away. They fought for three days and three nights. Mythal won, but she was much weakened."  
"Like a mother she was, she first sought for her sons, Dirthamen and Falon'Din, wanting to see their safety. When she entered the halls of Dirthamen, she found his temple darkened by that black thing. It was the greatest secret of them all, Dirthamen explained her, a shard Andruil had found from the Void and brought to him to decode. He had studied it, and he would not give it up. Mythal was horrified, and tried to reason with her son, explaining not all knowledge was meant to be found. She begged him to give it up, but he didn't listen, and a mad rage rose in him. Mythal was weak from her battle, or maybe she could not believe it, but Dirthamen took the shard and in his anger, stroke a killing blow at his mother."  
"Everyone felt Mythal's death and the force of her murder and betrayal. It had been Dirthamen who killed her, but Andruil who had betrayed all of them with her ambition and her gifts. The gods came together in Mythal's temple, mourning for their loss. Seeing there was no hope without Mythal, Fen'Harel tricked them and hid the gods behind great seal to save them. Then he took those still loyal to him and ran to the gates, barring them to keep the dark thing inside. He called up his other kin, the Forgotten Ones, who gave up their souls to contain any traces of Void fallen to ground. Their godly forms were strong, and could resist the dark thing for long time. In fear it would not be enough, Fen'Harel and his people created the Veil to separate the city in the sky from rest of the world, and by doing it, they sacrificed everything."  
"We lost the immortality, then.", Lavellan said. She had stopped crying at some point of the story. Her greatest flaw, love of ancient things and tales.  
"You are a smart girl.", the woman said. "The People became mortal, then. The Veil separated us from the Fade, and with each passing year, we became less. Our empire fell, and our people scattered, becoming just a shadows of themselves. But as the years passed, and Creators slept, Mythal did not. She had clawed her way through Ages, for she had seen what that black thing would do, and she wanted her vengeance. First it took the dwarves, cutting them off the Fade completely. The dwarves lost their magic, their ability to dream, and slowly their race started to die. The darkspawn took their warriors and cities, and the taint took their ability to have children. People fared only little better. Some of the old magic died with each dying elf. For each elven life lost, the taint gained ground, corrupting lyrium and everything it touched. "  
"What did she do?", Lavellan asked.  
"Mythal was a wisp of ancient being, with no body of her own. She found a woman, crying alone in the dark for justice, and came to her, offering all she wanted and more. She became part of her, as much as her heart beating in her chest, and they existed that way for a very long time. Woman was called Flemeth, or you might know her better as Asha'Bellanar."  
"I have heard tales of you.", she said, sitting up. It was still too dark to see anything except a form sitting on a rock.  
"Your father was right when he said that you catch on quickly. Good. But the story is not finished yet. Flemeth lived for centuries, taking the bodies of her daughters when her own one grew old. Soul cannot be forced on an unwilling host, but they understood the urgency of her mission.. Those loyal to Mythal held her foci, still. In the Dales, servants of Mythal poured power into it, and after the Dales fell, the tradition continued in every Arlathvhen. It was full of power to bring back the others to help her fight the dark thing, but no matter how hard she tried, the foci remained silent. Even Flemeth's and Mythal's combined knowledge couldn't change the fact that humans are not elves. Her ears were human, and could not hear the song.", woman said.  
"Fen'Harel was still sleeping after his great work, and his orb was locked. He could not help. Then Mythal's most faithful servant, Abelas, came to her. Together, they decided to save what was left of Arlathan's purest blood. So began the Keepers' Arlathven and the breeding of Dalish mage children. The practice served two purposes. First, it helped the People to survive in some fashion. The second purpose was the hope that in one day they could create a child whose spirit was strong enough to carry the power of a god and wield Mythal's orb. To hear it's song.", Flemeth whispered.

 

Lavellan sat in the darkness, holding her knees against her chest and remembering the round, carved thing which Abelas had placed on her hand. She licked her lips and asked:  
"What exactly you are proposing to me?"  
"You wish for justice for the People. I can give you that, make you it's instrument. I, on the other hand, want my revenge. I want vengeance against those who betrayed me, against the dark thing which took everything from me, and _I will have it_."  
  


 

\--

 

Morrigan wanted to weep for rage when she quietly walked in the Crestwood Keep. How could she have done this? The Inquisitor had warned her, but she had not listened, and now she had bound herself to eternal servitude to Mythal! Mythal who was not dead like she was supposed to be, clearly not dead enough not to give her orders she couldn't ignore.

She pushed open the door to small castle library, where Solas was holding a cup of tea and staring at it with a look of disgust. That odd boy, Cole, was sitting next to him, looking worried.  
"You are hurting, Solas. Let me help you. I can help you.", Cole said.  
"This is not a hurt you can heal, Cole.", the elf said. He had a book on his lap, but by the looks of it, he had barely gotten to start. He took a sip of tea, grimacing, and then turned to Morrigan.  
"For what do we own the pleasure of your company tonight, lady Morrigan? I thought you were still in Skyhold."  
[Anything. Keep him away from the glade], the voices ordered.  
"Inquisition business. Apparently I am not the only one who has trouble sleeping.", she sniffed. "That jawbone necklace of yours reminds me of Avvar shamans. Have you ever encountered them?"  
Solas gave her suspicious look, but took the bait. Morrigan barely heard his reply over the whisperings of the well.  
[Good. Keep him here.]  
  


\--

 

"If you refuse me now, what will become of our People? What will become of you? Your heart is broken, and so is your faith. You have nothing left."  
She couldn't answer. She didn't have any answers for Mythal's questions.  
"When he gets his orb back, Fen'Harel will release the gods to save the People and bring back our magic to fight the Blight. Without me, nobody can calm Elgar'nan's rage, and Dread Wolf will die for locking them away.", Mythal said softly.  
Hot tears ran over her face in the darkness. She remembered the graveyard in Fade, and the fears of her companions carved on the headstones. Solas. Dying alone.  
"I do not wish him to die, and neither do you, child.", Mythal continued. "This is the only way. These events have been set motion thousands of years ago. You can't stop this from happening any more than you could stop avalanche in Haven, but you can seize your destiny and ride it. You know more of my brethren than most mortals. Do you truly wish to see them unleashed into this world, with nobody to steer their wrath and convince them this is no longer the world we once ruled? Dalish will follow them blindly, not understanding they are merely slaves in their eyes. They will strike down Tevinter, and blood will run like rivers on the streets of human cities when elves rise. I want my revenge against the ones who betrayed me, but when it is over, I am willing to end it. They are not."  
"How do I know you are not lying to me?", Lavellan asked.  
"That is just the thing, girl. You can't know. Like my dear Morrigan so artfully put it, there comes the time when one must simply leap and see what happens."  
"Giving my body away to ancient elvhen god is rather big leap, I would say.", Lavellan said dryly.  
"Oh, but those are the best kind!", Flemeth laughed. "And you wouldn't be giving your body away. It is more like letting me inside yours, with you."  
"Mythal and Flemeth or just Mythal?"  
"Just Mythal. My orb is finicky thing, and much like eluvians, it does not like humans. I have accompanied Mythal for very long time, and she gave me what I wanted. Now is time to return the favor. But the night grows short, and we have much to do. Tell me, girl, what is your decision?"  
Lavellan swallowed. She was deathly afraid, wanting to flee, but there was no other option. Mythal was right. She could not stop a world which had been moving towards this future for much longer time than her thirty years, and sufferings of her People were real. If something was not done, they would eventually die. Small things like putting Briala in power would do nothing to the Blight, and she did not want to see a future where... What was one woman's life against the lives of the People, or the chance to stop the Blight before it was too late? She could just not let Solas walk to his death, not when she was being offered a chance to save him.  
  
Blackwall had once told her a tale of his boyhood, about a group of boys who had hanged a stray dog. He had described how the dog had cried, wept for help, and he had done nothing but closed the door and let it die. Forty years later, he still hated himself for failing himself and failing the dog, and Lavellan remembered him saying that she would have saved it, and that was why he served her. If she closed the door now, the chances were that her regrets would be much more bitter.  
  
She drew a breath, trying to calm herself down, but not quite succeeding. Her voice was shaking when she asked:  
"Are you truly certain that the orb answers to me? I would hate to do this and find out that it didn't work."  
"So you are willing to do this, if it works?", Flemeth asked.  
"Yes.", Lavellan said. She understood, now. Elvhen isala na halam'shivanas, the People need your sacrifice. It had been this. All along. Her whole life, everything she had done, everything she had became.. Just a ploy.  
"Abelas!", Flemeth raised her voice. "Bring the orb."

 

\--

 

Morrigan was having an excellent argument about Avvar with the hedge mage. He was annoying, but there was no denying that he had knowledge. That was probably why the Inquisitor put up with him. For a thing done against one's will, this was not so bad.  
"She is hurting.", Cole said suddenly. "She petted her hair, but it didn't help. And you are hurting too, Morrigan. The voices make you do this, and you don't want to, but you can't stop them."  
Solas' eyes narrowed.

 

\--

 

Lavellan held the orb on her right hand. It felt different than last time, but she was different, too. Older, stronger, changed by anchor and knowledge.  
"It has been filled with power to the brink, the courtesy of Dalish gathered to Arlathvhen.", Flemeth said. "Tell me, girl, what do you hear?"  
"The orb is singing. It calls for you.", Lavellan said, the last part of her giving in.  
"Excellent. Now all you have to do is stay here, and wait a moment, while I make sure we are not untimely disturbed. This place is very well suited for the purpose.", Flemeth announced and vanished in the dark, taking her orb back.  
Abelas stayed with her. Lavellan looked at him, feeling hurt and betrayed, and she couldn't help but to ask bitterly:  
"Did I ever mean anything to you except a new body for Mythal?"  
"You are wrong, daughter. You mean everything. Countless generations of Dalish were born only to create you, a daughter with spirit pure and strong enough to hold a power of a god. You will make the People proud, and yours will be the face of our justice.", Abelas said.

He saw her tearstained face crumbling again, and although he knew this all was for the People, that this was the greatest honor which could be given to any elvhen, the father he had been for such short time still remembered.  
Abelas pulled her on his lap, holding her tight and whispering meaningless comforting words as she wept against his shoulder.  
"You were always a stubborn child, emm'asha.", he said quietly. "Your mother despaired of it. I savored it, because I thought it would help you after I took you to Dalish. You were my daughter first, and you became a sacrifice for my duty only after."

\--

"Mythal's creature, doing her bidding.", Solas said, putting the cup down. His face was guarded now, his eyes narrow and appraising as he looked at Morrigan.  
"Tell me, if you can, what Mythal wants of me? Surely not my opinions of Avvar shamans?"  
"I can't.", Morrigan forced the words. "I don't know."  
"I think you do.", Solas disagreed.

\---

 

She stood by the waterfall and watched with dread as Flemeth stepped forwards.  
"This will only hurt for a moment.", Mythal said, taking her face between old, wrinkled human hands.  
Her last thought was not for the People. As she felt something cold and ancient flowing inside her, she cling to a memory of other, kinder hands cupping her face, and the loving voice who had once told her that she was free.

\--

In the Crestwood Keep, Cole started to scream.  
"What is it, Cole?", Solas turned away from Morrigan.  
"The hurt. It is too much, too many!", Cole moaned. "She can't remember how many of them she made on their faces. I won't distract you from your duty again. You mean everything, daughter, yours will be the face of justice. You make the People proud. This will only hurt for a moment. She lied! It is the blue hurt!"  
"Cole, shut it out!", Solas commanded forcefully. "Do not let the pain overwhelm you."  
"Ar lasa mala revas.", Cole repeated, his eyes glazing over. "Ar lasa mala revas. It doesn't help. It is gone. She clings to it, clings to green hurt in the midst of all blue."  
"It's her.", Solas whispered, the realization dawning. "What is she doing?"  
"Not her.", Cole shook his head, looking miserable. "Not in the blue hurt."

 

 

He ran through the narrow cave leading to glade where he had left her. His lungs ached, but his fear was worse.  
"Inquisitor? Inquisitor!", he shouted.  
There was no answer. The glade was empty, unnaturally so. Even the spirits he had seen there earlier were gone, scattered away. He looked around frantically, trying to find something, anything -- there, near the waterfall.  
It was a pile of ashes, slowly being scattered by wind. He touched them tentatively. They were still warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have two chapters to go. At this point, I must decide whether to work a sequel for this. Flemythal's story and plans would give the necessary background for worldbuilding, but I'd like to hear your thoughts about this, and what would you want to see if there was a sequel. There is no getting rid of elfy things after what happened, but the fate of Inquisition and it's members is open. So please give me some thoughts, so I can play with them!
> 
> I have a delicious drabble written between Fen'Harel and Elgar'nan, where they discuss stealing wives and try to determine who is the actual injured party here - the situation is rather complicated - but it isn't enough for a plot.


	23. Who are you today?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellana learns that godhood is different from the inside.

"Eat something.", Melana said, pushing a plate in front of him.  
Abelas sighed. His sentinels had forced him to take a much needed break and have some sleep. He had not expected this to be easy, but Fen'Harel had made it much harder than even Mythal could have guessed.   
"How is she?", he asked, tasting the fresh game. Elk, he thought. It was odd to eat something which was not a bird or a fruit. Food in the temple had been limited to fruits in the holy trees and the birds they could find from the temple yard, if they had been awake for longer periods.  
"Slightly better, I think.", Melana replied thoughtfully. "Soon after you left, she started talking about children and how lovely her son had been when he was small. I think we are getting past the vengeful rage. She was making comparisons between Dirthamen and somebody called Enethriel, and didn't mention anything about reckoning or shaking the heavens. Let's wait another few days, and maybe then we can start lowering the wards, if she is still stable."  
"We'll see.", Abelas rolled his shoulders and finished his meal. "It would have been much simpler if she didn't have those complications to deal with."

 The possession had not gone the way anyone would have expected. Abelas had resigned himself to a future where he would see his mistress in his daughter's body, and the daughter would be lost somewhere inside Mythal's vast mind. But when Flemeth fell dead from her arms, and the black mist of power cleared from her face, first thing she had said was about Solas coming, and how they should hurry.

In the days which followed, it soon became clear that instead of simple possession there was a struggle for dominance. His stubborn daughter persisted, clinging to her sense of self like drowning man holding any piece of wood he could find. One moment she was Mythal, acting like she was an old woman and speaking of vengeance, and the moment after she was staring at her unmarked face, so taken by emotion that she could barely speak at all. The sentinels didn't have a clue, and even Abelas wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but the best theory they could come up with was that Fen'Harel's power inside her hand, their bond and the divine blessing he had bestowed on her, gave Ellana a fighting chance against Mythal. Complications. Fen'Harel had been known for causing headache to his brethren in regular basis, but this was his best work so far.

 

Abelas nodded to sentinel who stood on guard, and passed through the doorway and wards which held the dangers outside and her inside. She was standing in a dark corner, looking at deep mushrooms growing from the walls of the cave.  
"He went to war, and she feared he would die. He was so serious and handsome and she thought her heart would break.", she said sadly, turning towards Abelas. "With each step, she felt smaller and lost, but the People looked upon her, and she had to be strong. When she got home, she hid into his wardrobe and sat there, crying against his robes. Oh, poor Mythal."  
"How are you feeling?", Abelas asked.  
She gave him a thoughtful glance and said:  
"This is much like Fade. Navigating through mists of time and memories of mind. She hurts, and I'm holding her. When Ellana's clan died, Solas took her to Fade. He held her for four days, keeping her anchored, remembering her memories with her. We are trying to do it together, now. "  
"Which one you are, now?"  
"Myself.", she grinned at him.  
Abelas gave her the stare.  
"We've seen that before. We remember it.", she announced gleefully. "Let me tell you a secret, Abelas.", she said, walking to him and rising to tip of her toes to whisper in his ear:  
"It never worked on either of us."  
Abelas sat down, feeling grim. He hated mood swings. This was going to be a long night.  
  


 

\--

 

Godhood was different from the inside. Ellana had once seen a hunter, who had hit her head so hard that she had lost her memory of recent events. The feeling she had was bit like that, but worse. She could remember Mythal taking her face between her hands and lying that it wouldn't hurt, but she could also remember the same situation from Mythal's view.  
After that, she had only fractures. She could remember the cave, and sentinels who cared for her. She had a memory of magic overwhelming her. She cried for help in a panic, and Abelas came, knocking her out with a strong blast of power. She remembered crying for those killed by Andruil, and weeping as she remembered cutting Therion's throat open with his own blade. A discussion with a sentinel about her childhood. She could remember being a little girl before the rise of Arlathan, and the memories of clan Lavellan were equally true, equally hers. She remembered naked Elgar'nan grinning at her in the moonlight and asking if she was willing to recharge his orb with her Creator force, and she wanted to keel over and die for sheer embarrasment - and at the same time, she smiled and told him yes, adding that he had better work for it since he had the worst pick-up lines ever. Elgar'nan smiled and told that she liked him the way he was, but then it was Solas, looking at her like she was the most beautiful woman in whole world, and sun shone on his bare skin as she bent to kiss his collarbone.  
Her mind was filled with memories, thousands of memories at her fingertips, and she tried to make them all fit.

 

It got better, eventually. Her first clear memory was Abelas, who was sitting on the cave floor and studying a mage staff in his hands. Hers, her mind supplied.  
"It is supposed to belong to Tyrdda Bright-Axe. A gift from her leaf-eared lover.", she said. "I used Inquisition to send a Chantry sister to look for the clues of her weapon. She was mortified when she found out that the great hero was a mage, and wrote me an apologizing note for suggesting the search at first place. Thedas of today does not like mage heroes."   
"You seem almost coherent.", Abelas replied. "This is a very old weapon. Predates Veil, I think."  
"It would make sense. The writings about Tyrdda mention that her lover was a laughing lady from the skies. I don't recall doing that, so it must have been someone else."  
She sat on the edge of bedroll and stretched.  
"Father, how long it has been?"  
"Time flows differently here, so it is hard to say. Five weeks and two days behind this eluvian, much less in Thedas.", Abelas replied, his face still wary. "How I should call you today?"  
"Ellana.", she said. "I think I can keep everything in order, now. It is like having two sets of memories from before. Since Mythal has more, it was hard to keep her from burying me under them. But we are..content, now. This isn't as bad as I thought. I still feel like me. Or I'm blind for differences. I should probably ask the question from Solas, but I'm afraid of hearing the answer."  
"In my opinion, a man who tricks a woman into bond by claiming it was _a hairstyle in his youth_ , hides his true name and then bails out before the agreed date, is not worth of any questions.", Abelas said dryly.  
"I take it that I was babbling more than I remember?", Ellana asked carefully.  
"It was to be expected."  
"It is still embarrassing.", she said.  
"The common opinion among sentinels is to treat it as a learning experience, as they are loyal to you for life. There are still some of us who served you before Mythal's murder, and you do not need to worry; I don't think you could tell anything we had not seen in Arlathan. "  
Ellana let her guard down for a second to let Mythal's memories through, to better make sense about Abelas' words about Arlathan. She stared into distance for a minute or two before returning to present moment. Abelas watched her blushing red.  
"The elves of today do not do things like that.", she said prudently.  
"They are just shadows skulking in the woods.", Abelas shrugged. "It is not an ideal situation for sexual discovery. But you should be careful. You do well enough in conversation if you focus, but you shouldn't let yourself phase out like that if you insist going back to Inquisition."  
"Five weeks is a long time. They must be frantic by now."  
"Five weeks is nothing.", Abelas disagreed. "It will be six or more before you can go back. We did not do all this for you to fail in the first challenge you face. You need to master the orb, and how to call it. You can't just put it in a pouch and carry around if you wish to avoid questions. If Corypheus attacks on the meantime, we will notice it."

  

\--

  

"We few who travel far, call to me, and I will come. Without mercy, without fear. Cry havoc in the moonlight, let the fire of vengeance burn, the cause is clear.", Morrigan read the inscription on the old stone altar of Mythal.  
"Without mercy. That will give anyone a pause.", Zevran said reluctantly. "I hope you didn't drag me and poor Loranil here for blood sacrifice. Loranil is way too young and I'm way too handsome to die. And I'm not sure if Cole can bleed."  
"The well told me to bring you two and Cole.", Morrigan said. " I think this is fool's journey in any case. The well claims this will summon Mythal, but what is Mythal beyond something thousands of years dead and gone?"  
"My Keeper says it is never wise to ignore Mythal.", Loranil said warily. "Especially at her own altar."  
"We shall see.", Morrigan replied, turning towards the altar.  
"You know who I am: the last to drink from your Well of Sorrows. Come to me, Mythal. Whoever you are, whoever remains, I invoke your name and your power.", Morrigan addressed the statue. 

The sun shone brightly through the leaves of the trees, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then Morrigan felt a cold whisper of an ancient magic, and black mist appeared from nowhere, swirling on the ground near them. A woman formed there, walking through the mists.  
"Inquisitor?", Zevran asked, unbelieving.  
"No. It can't be true.", Morrigan shook her head fiercely.  
"What does the well say?", the Inquisitor asked, looking at them. She looked the same, except for vallaslin which was gone, but something intangible had been changed. Morrigan could feel it. She could not describe it, but she could feel it. It was like the well had been, but much stronger. A whisper of something cold, ancient, which echoed in the air around her.  
Morrigan reached for the well, and the voices spoke in unison, with certainty which could not be denied.  
"She is Mythal.", Morrigan said, defeated.  
"I don't understand.", Zevran said, feeling helpless. "How can you be Mythal?"  
The Inquisitor crossed her hands behind her back, a confident posture she had often taken when she was talking with Solas. Seeing it was like watching a ghost.  
"Once I was but a woman, crying in the lonely darkness.", she said softly. "An ancient being came to me, offering a duty which could not be denied."  
"You stand here, and tell you are just a demon, possessing her!", Zevran turned against her, his face twisted with fury.   
He drew his daggers with a swift move. She could not be saved, but she could be avenged. He had sworn to protect her as long as she lived, and that cursed apostate who--  
"Morrigan. Restrain him.", Inquisitor commanded, her eyes flashing colder blue.  
The witch's magic took a hold on him, and Zevran struggled against the spell.  
"Why are you doing this? You have no reason to keep me from my revenge!", he shouted at witch.  
"I don't know.", Morrigan cried out.  
"You do know.", Inquisitor said calmly. "You drank from the Well of Sorrows."  
"So.. you are Mythal. Truly.", Loranil said, falling to his knees. "Why you didn't help us? We prayed for you, begged for your help! All these years, we pleaded and only silence answered."  
Her eyes were dark with sorrow when she replied:  
"You do not know what you ask for, child. Some things were beyond my ability to change, and your past is not what you were taught. Elvhenan cannot be rebuilt as it was, but something new can born from the ruins - if the Dalish are willing to listen. I am Mythal, and I will not see you scorning your brothers for choosing another path long time ago."  
"The same offer stands for you, Zevran, and through you, to Briala and everyone who wishes to listen. The divide must end. Otherwise there is no future for elves, and when the People fall, Thedas will fall with them. There is no more urgent task for you than this. If you decide to walk the path I offer, speak with Morrigan. She, as my priest, will offer you the guidance you need.", the Inquisitor said.   
"As for Inquisition and the reason why you summoned me here. Corypheus's ability to jump from one body to another is tied to his dragon. It is not an archdemon, merely twisted by the powers of his stolen orb and blight, and if the dragon is slain, he can be killed. Fighting the dragon is your task, Morrigan."  
"Are you not coming back to Inquisition?", Morrigan asked.  
"Not yet.", she said. "Things are.. unsettled, still."  
"It has been only four days.", Cole said helpfully.  
"Four days?", she said, sounding faintly surprised. "I thought it had been much longer than that. Good. You may tell the others that you saw the Inquisitor, and she is fine, but wishes some time for herself because Solas ended the relationship between them. I will come to slay Corypheus, but there are other things which require my attention now. Cole - I need your help."  
"I know.", Cole said, nodding. "I will come with you. I can help you."  
She nodded and turned to leave.  
"Wait!", Morrigan cried out. "I have to know. Our friendship, what you were, everything - was any of it real?"  
Mythal turned towards her and smiled, Lavellan's smile.  
"Sister.", she said simply, and vanished into trail of mist, taking Cole with her.

 

  
  
She took Cole through the places between, to a quiet corner off the Crossroads where Abelas waited with his sentinels.  
"You are still you. Holding on the green hurt keeps you, but you are her, too, and she is hurting from old wounds.", Cole said.  
"Yes. Mythal is bent on revenge, and she must give it up. Justice without mercy is nothing but vengeance, and combined with purity, it will cause a world of hurt.", Ellana said. "Are you sure you are strong enough for this, Cole?"  
"You made me more like spirit, more like you.", Cole said. "You helped me, and now I will help you. I know how to do it. We call up each of her hurts, from small ones to big ones, and remember them with her. Like you have already done. You remember Elgar'nan going to war, and how she cried in the wardrobe. You hold her, and it makes her hurt less. It is compassion. When we are finished, there will be no ragged edges, no fences between you."

 

\---

 

Zevran, Morrigan and Loranil were quiet for the most part of the ride back to Skyhold. Finally, when they were getting near to Frostback mountains, Morrigan opened his mouth and said:  
"After long consideration, I can find two positive things. First; at least Mythal was not my mother. It would have been intolerable. And there is one person who will feel worse than us about this. I never thought I would say it, but I pity Solas when he finds out."  
"Yes. His love of Fade and elfy things takes entirely a new dimension.", Zevran said, unable to suppress a grin. "He had an ancient elven goddess, and was stupid enough to dump her!"  
"It might be a good thing.", Loranil said carefully. "If Mythal is alive and well, what about Elgar'nan?"  
"Who is Elgar'nan?", Zevran asked.  
"In the legends, he was Mythal's lover and the father of her children. A god of vengeance and fatherhood, eldest of the sun. Together they led the rest of the gods.", Morrigan offered.  
"I think I have to read a few books before I take up this prophet thing.", Zevran sighed. "What is Mythal supposed to govern over?"  
"Justice, motherhood and love.", Loranil supplied.  
"Ah. I can definitely do love.", Zevran announced, looking much pleased. "It's my area of expertise. I even know how to start."  
Morrigan had a fleeting suspicion about directions Zevran's newfound religious fervor might take, but she promptly suppressed it. What she didn't know, Mythal could not know, and making Zevran a prophet had not been her idea. Mythal was a goddess. She could deal with it.

 

 


	24. What duty wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sera breaks the news to Corypfish:  
> "Didn't you hear, you idiot? She is Mythal, and she's got the orb thingy too!"

Solas finally found her dreams in the Fade on ninth night after her disappearance. She was sitting under Therion's tree, back against the trunk, calmly looking at dreamers passing by. Something of her was different, stronger, but the anchor glowed under her skin as always. He reached for it, and the anchor sang the familiar melody of his orb, confirming it was truly her instead of spirit copying her features.  
"What happened to you?", he asked, his worry and fear overcoming his need to draw away.  
"We have always been creatures of duty, Solas.", she said, looking at the broken sky. The Breach was there, but it had been opened again, and it was spreading. "I think you were going to tell me, but you lost your courage on last possible moment. You thought you would have betrayed yourself by telling me. Oh, my Dread Wolf, in all these years you still have learned nothing of love."  
She shook her head, her eyes glinting in the light.  
"There are different kinds of love. Did you truly fear that your love could have changed you from what you were? After all you did to guard me, and make sure I would be faithful to what I was? If I was worthy of your love, why would I have demanded more of you than you demanded of me? To do so is not a nature of love. You don't love a person to change his ways. You love him _despite_ them."  
"I'm sorry.", he offered, knowing it was not enough, but it was all he had.  
"You knew how much Dalish meant for me, how deep they cut you, and you loved me nonetheless. That was love. But you never gave me a chance to return the favor. For all your talk about my marvelous, unique spirit, you still did not trust enough. You could not believe. It was your choice, and our loss."  
"You still haven't answered my question. What happened to you? Cole said you were hurting, and when I came to glade, all the spirits were gone.", he said, wanting for answers instead of more words of wisdom. He loved her wisdom, but not when it pointed out his own weaknesses so sharply.  
"I am not what I was. I am more, now, and I have one last boon to beg from you, Solas.", she said, her eyes pleading. "I will leave you be, if you grant me this one last thing. You don't need to do anything, merely listen, and believe what I say."  
He couldn't find words. He just nodded, voiceless.  
"What happened to me was not your fault. We both were outplayed by a third party.  Had you not walked away from me, I still would have chosen this. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. You did not make the wrong choice. If anything, you saved what you held dear. What is left of me, it's because of you. Your orb, your blessing, your bond. Please, do not blame yourself for this."  
"For what?", he asked.  
"For what will be made clear, very soon.", she said, and turned away. He watched her walk away, and Fade broke around him. He woke up to noise of door banging against the wall in his rotunda. A terrified soldier stood there, with Cole peeking over his shoulder.  
"The sky! It's burning again!", soldier shouted in panic. "Where is the Herald?"

 

Cassandra arrived soon after that, armed with questions of Inquisitor's location.  
"What do you mean you don't know? You two are together, of course you know!", Cassandra's voice was loud with fear.  
"We are not!", Solas snapped. "I broke it off after the temple of Mythal. We never spoke after that. She disappeared in Crestwood, and I don't know where she is."  
"You broke it off with the Herald on the eve of her final battle with Corypheus?!", Cassandra's face was turning red.  
"It was a distraction from her duty! I let it continue for too long already!"  
Cassandra stared at him.  
"Do you realize what you have done? She is the only one standing between Corypheus and godhood, and you say you don't know where she is? You broke her heart, and now you just stand there, telling that it was a distraction from her duty! You are heartless bastard! No wonder she took off and disappeared somewhere in the wilderness! The world is doomed, and it is your fault, Solas! Yours!"  
"You have a shitty timing, Solas.", Iron Bull shook his head. "Even the I know better than that."  
"Wonderful. Just wonderful.", Sera said. "Now we all are going die, because Baldy couldn't live in a lie for a bit longer. Would it have killed you to keep bumping bits with her until after she killed Corypfish?"  
"It was no lie!", Cole disagreed. "He loves her, he still does."  
"That is not making it any better, kid.", Varric replied.  
"No. It's making it worse.", Dorian crossed his arms over his chest and gave a scathing look on Solas.  
"If you are quite finished with relationship drama, I would like to focus on matter at hand. The Breach has been opened again, likely by Corypheus. Does anyone know where the Inquisitor is, or how to reach her in time?", Vivienne asked.  
"We don't have soldiers to send after her! They are still marching back from Arbor Wilds!", Cullen said.  
"There is no need.", a woman's voice said from the side of the room. It was Morrigan, standing by the doorway which led to Eluvian. "I can match the darkspawn magister's dragon, and the Inquisitor will match Corypheus."  
Behind her, stood the Inquisitor.

 

 

Something was wrong. Solas knew it, he could feel it. Everyone else had hurried to prepare themselves for battle, but Lavellan was talking quietly to Cole in the corner.  
"..you must help them, afterwards. I don't want them to feel betrayed."  
"I understand. You never meant to hurt anyone."  
"Listening at private discussions, now?", Morrigan's bitter voice said behind Solas. "I have had my fill of private discussions on my way to meet her tonight. I just want you to know that this was your fault. Entirely your fault. You broke her faith with your gifts of knowledge, her father helped, and you did the rest. It didn't take much effort from mother, because of you and your accursed fear of dying alone!"  
The witch's words were bitter, but her eyes were shining with tears.  
"I always thought it was I whom she wanted, but it was her. She didn't know either. Her whole existence was just an elaborate plot, meant to end this way. I hate your people. I will hate you until the end of my days for tricking me, taking her and treating us like pieces on the game board. She was my _friend_."  
"Morrigan, stop.", the Inquisitor said firmly. "Solas, go get your gear and everything else you might need. I require your assistance in battle against Corypheus. And remember.", she continued, in softer voice: "'You set me free, and I chose this. Do not blame yourself."

 

 

"Tell me. Where is your Maker now?", Corypheus' voice boomed against the stones of ruined temple, his words loud and clear to the edge of mountain range where Inquisitor's party was dismounting. "Call him. Call down his wrath upon me."  
Ellana could feel the orb singing behind the Veil, hovering near her to reach if she needed. The song it sang to her was fierce and strong. She knew it had never sung to Flemeth. The orb had not been ready, and Flemeth had lacked the blood. Everything always came back to pure blood, pure will, pure spirit. Even the lie she had lived, imagining she had a life of her own.  
"You cannot, for He does not exist." , Corypheus continued his mockery. "I am Corypheus. I shall deliver you from this lie in which you linger. Bow before your new god and be spared."  
"Never!", soldier's defiant cry echoed from the walls.  
"As you wish.", Corypheus said, and he called his demons.

Cassandra's sword impaled a Greater Terror, and she kicked it to free the blade. Corypheus was standing on a broken doorway, and the darkspawn magister performed a mocking bow to Ellana as he saw her approach.  
"I knew you would come.", he said, spreading his arms.  
"It ends here, Corypheus.", she swore, lifting her staff up.  
"And so it shall.", Corypheus replied, and pulled power from Fen'Harel's orb. He used it to break ruins of temple off the ground, lifting them upwards to sky. The part of her which was Mythal cursed the Tevinter fool. The power of the orb was not to be wasted to idiotic displays! Every drop of it was needed! She barely noticed Scout Harding and half of her companions falling, forced to stay behind on the ground far below. Only Morrigan, Cassandra, Dorian, Sera and Solas had been close enough, and they all were holding on for their lives as the temple flew to the sky. For a fleeting second, she heartily wished that Solas would have stayed on the ground.

 

She staggered, but did not fell. Ellana knew that the orb could be broken by force, if it was empty enough. She kept a careful eye on Fen'Harel's treasure, feeling the song calling the anchor on her left hand. Corypheus' touch made the power inside wrong, much like spirit twisted into demon. It shone red instead of green, reflecting the nature of one holding it.  
"You have been most successful in foiling my plans, but let us not forget who you are.", Corypheus said, ready to start another monologue.  
Ellana felt a mad rush of glee inside her, knowing the words on the tip of her tongue. This was so horrible that it was almost fun. She remembered that Solas had commented Mythal's sense of humor when the Inner Circle had been in Fade with Loghain. It was getting harder to separate which had been Lavellan, and which was Mythal. Mythal was as much part of her as the anchor, or heart beating inside her chest.  
"Yes. It has been forgotten, but everyone will be reminded, now.", Ellana said, ready to call her orb from between.  
"A thief, in the wrong place at wrong time. An interloper. A gnat.", Corypheus continued, slightly disturbed for her interruption. The magister had probably rehearsed his speech before coming to Haven, the gleeful voice in her mind supplied.  
"You are all of those things, shemlen upstart, but _I am Mythal._ ", Ellana said, and her orb appeared floating in the air above her, filling her veins with pure power the Dalish had fed into it for centuries. It sang, a victorious song.  
"We shall prove here, once and for all, which one of us is worthy of godhood.", Corypheus went on, and then Sera's obnoxious voice shouted behind her:  
"Didn't you hear, you idiot? She is Mythal, and she's got the orb thingy too!"  
Corypheus seemed to register her words only then, and for a moment, the battlefield was deathly silent.  
"Oh, Maker, no. Wasn't Mythal that ancient elf thingy which had the pond full of dead priests?", the memory hit Sera hard. "Please tell me you are joking? You have to be joking, Inky! This isn't fun anymore!"  
"She is not.", Solas' voice was enough to break her heart, but she used her pain to harden it to cutting edge, advancing on Corypheus. The twisted dragon rose from the ruins behind Corypheus, and with swift, lashing move of his arms, Corypheus willed it to attack. A little nudge with power and Morrigan, turned into a red dragon, flew to cut the attack. The dragons ram into each other and fell over the edge.  
"You dare.", Corypheus hissed.

She saw Morrigan falling from the sky. The woman was bleeding when she hit the ground, trying to rise on her knees but falling down again. Through the geas, Mythal knew Morrigan lived still. Corypheus' dragon, however, was still on the flying ruins. Corypheus himself had fled to the second floor, and the stolen orb shone red above him.  
"Let it end here. Let the skies boil. Let the world be rent asunder.", Corypheus shouted.  
"Cassandra. Take the others and kill the dragon. I will go after Corypheus. He must not have time to gather strength and pull more power from the orb.", the Inquisitor commanded. Elf's eyes were glowing with black, misty thing crackling with blue, and Cassandra couldn't find the words to say, so she just nodded.

 

"I want to go down!", Sera howled as she shot arrows at twisted dragon. "I don't like this! It's wrong! Whole Mythal thingy is wrong! Elven gods do not exist! I don't know whether I should shoot her as well while I'm shooting at Coryphis! I pranked people with her! I drank ale with her and then she turned out to be a fucking god!"  
"Just imagine how poor Solas must feel. He actually fucked a goddess.", Dorian cast a lighting at twisted dragon. "That man really loves ancient elfy things."  
"For once in your lives, can't you just shut up?", Solas yelled, strengthening the barriers around Cassandra. He was clearly upset.  
"Oh, I take you didn't know.", Dorian decided. "Must have been quite a shock to you."  
"To everyone.", Cassandra snapped and lunged at the dragon, slashing through it's belly and through it's neck. The dragon's great head slumped down, and Solas was already running towards the stairs.

 

They arrived just to see Corypheus' eyes glowing with red, like tainted lyrium, and he threw a burst of orb's power at the Inquisitor who fell. Grunting, Corypheus staggered to keep his balance.  
"No, Solas.", Cassandra's hand held his arm, stopping him from going to her. "It is too dangerous. The magic they are throwing at each other is not for mortals."  
Solas wanted to scream at Cassandra, tell that Lavellan was a mortal still, no matter whose power she held, but he was powerless to do anything. He could only watch.  
The stolen orb was making a crackling, angry noise, and Corypheus gathered it to him, wailing:  
"Not like this! I have walked the halls of the Golden City, crossed the ages.."  
The orb jerked violently in his grasp, and the Inquisitor stood up, her closed fist crackling with green light. She vanished her own orb into between and walked behind Corypheus with a stride of a predator. With a stab of pain, Solas remembered how Mythal had once hunted the enemies of those she protected to the ends of earth. The green glow of anchor was well visible now, burning on her skin.  
"Dumat! Ancient ones! I beseech you!", Corypheus prayed as the power of the anchor started to pull orb from his grasp and the color turned from red to greenish. "If you exist - if you ever truly existed - aid me now!"  
Corypheus opened his arms for one last, desperate spell, but Fen'Harel's orb was no longer in his control. The Inquisitor held it, and it crackled green over her open palm as Corypheus fell on his knees, beaten.

The orb sang to her, recognizing the anchor which fed it. It was different song, a borrowed one, but the orb craved for more power. Mythal's memories warned her it was a warning sign. It could break. Ellana could feel Solas' hungry eyes at his foci, and she calmed the orb down, sending Fen'Harel's treasure safely in between while she drew out hers. Looking at the sky, she opened her orb fully. There was plenty of magic left, and she used it to power the anchor. Mythal's domain was not in the Fade, but she had the catalyst imprinted inside her hand. Using it to close the Breach had worked once, and she willed it to work again, filling the sky with the power of anchor. The Breach whirled around madly, and then it.. stopped. The hole was gone, and only a scar remained.

The ground had started to shake as soon as Fen'Harel's orb was deactivated. The magic holding them in the air was gone and Ellana used a small trickle of power to guide the ruins over a mountaintop, hoping it would make the inevitable crash less deadly. But there was one last thing to do.  
"You wanted into Fade?", she asked from Corypheus and used the anchor to open a rift inside him, ripping the magister apart. Corypheus screamed and the stones crashed down around them as the former Temple of Sacred Ashes fell from the sky.

 

The companions had been shielded from falling stones inside the staircase, and Cassandra could still see the delicate magic Mythal's barrier holding them safe from harm as the Inquisitor came to them.  
"This is the end.", she said, the glow of power in her eyes dying away and for a second, she was just Lavellan. "It has been an honor to have you by my side."  
"But.. how?", Dorian choked. "Why?"  
Her face was shadowed by sorrow as she answered:  
"The People needed me. It is best if you tell everyone I died heroically in the battle against Corypheus. Dareth shiral, friends."  
She turned away and disappeared behind the fallen stones. By the time they managed to dispel the barrier, she was nowhere to be found. Mythal, Lavellan, whatever she had been, was gone.

"What will we tell the others?", Cassandra asked numbly. Her faith had shaken, badly.  
"After defeating Corypheus, she was critically wounded and going to die. Then Andraste appeared on the edge of the Breach, and the Herald ascended to spend eternity on the Maker's right side.", Solas recited solemnly. "You have the left and right hand for the Divine, why not for the Maker?"  
"It sounds better than telling our Inqy was secretly an elfy god who deceived us for the whole time.", Sera said spitefully.  
"I don't know if it was the whole time.", Cassandra said thoughtfully. "I heard her saying to Solas: 'You set me free, and I chose this. Do not blame yourself.'"  
"What a horrible break-up gift.", Dorian sighed. "Because you broke up with me, I decided to become ancient god just to spite you. Or I revealed myself to be an ancient elven god. Did you even believe in them, Solas?"  
"I believe something existed to start the legends. Whether they were gods or something else, I don't know. But I do not wish to talk about this.", he said and started to walk towards Haven.


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mythal and Fen'Harel meet in the front of eluvian

It was a strange party. Cassandra had decided that religious explanation was best, although it must tear her heart to tell that lie. But the other option, telling the truth, was something which could start a new Exalted March towards elven settlements and as a future Divine she was not willing to take the chance. Sera had walked straight to Cole and asked if he was really able to make people forget things, and apparently Cole had helped her, because Sera was either crying Inquisitor's death or trying to show her bottom to Vivienne each time Solas glanced at her direction. The choice seemed to depend on the level of alcohol in her glass. Dorian was deep in his thoughts, speaking about returning to Tevinter. What had happened in the sky, had shaken him to the core. He had declined Cole's offer to help, saying he needed to think this through.

Each of the Inner Circle members exchanged few words with Solas. His silence was explained by sorrow and truly, he was speechless. Listening Josephine's worrying about caterers felt unreal. She was gone. For all his necessary lies, for all his trickery, he had never imagined anything like this happening. Solas had known she had her secrets, but he had been sure they were nothing compared to his, and keeping up their unvoiced agreement of not asking about things had been more important.

He had not known the truth until the moment she had faced Corypheus and took the orb, naming herself Mythal. He didn't know what to believe in, what she was now. If anything of woman he loved remained still.  
The grand irony of whole evening was not escaping him. She would have gone through this, this same farce of celebration, if he had gotten the orb back as he had originally planned.  

Quietly, he slipped to rotunda and started working on his last painting. It was just an outline, he did not wish to linger long enough to finish it. He painted a dragon, holding two orbs in it's claws, and shook his head. The dragon whose form she had learned from her friend, who had learned it from her mother... How far Mythal's grasp had reached, truly? Everything in her had been so carefully planned that Solas was not sure about anything anymore. Her son, because Mythal was revered as mother. Her spirit, a rarity during this age. Her magic, ability to draw spirits like Boggy to her.. Her presence at Conclave could not have been an accident.  
Only thing he did know was that he found no joy in thinking that her indomitable will had been finally bent.

He put his paints away, looking at the books on his table. Nothing he wanted to take with him. They belonged to Skyhold, and whoever would hold the fortress now. It was the second time he would leave this place behind.

 

Solas crossed the main hall, opening the familiar door leading to her quarters. He was just going to slip inside, when the members of Inner Circle rose up, bowing to him as a sign of respect. He knew it was not for him, not truly, but for the Inquisitor, and he was the nearest person remaining. Nodding quietly, he stepped in the corridor and closed the door behind him.

 

Her rooms were silent and empty. A part of him had hoped of finding her here, but it was a foolish thought. She would not return to this place. A glance at partially empty bookshelf proved that Morrigan had been here already, probably under Mythal's orders. Lavellan had carefully written down everything she had learned from him, and those books could not be left for the curious seekers looking for Mythal.

He walked to balcony and leaned to listen the sounds of celebration coming from the yard. The sky was healed, only scar remaining. With a sigh, Fen'Harel put aside the identity of Solas and left her room, walking to eluvian waiting for him.  
  


 

\--

She stood in front of Eluvian marked with wolf and dragon, and he could see the ripples of something she sent through the mirror. It was Mythal in her, always preparing.  
"I knew you would come.", she said, turning slowly towards him. "You should not have given your orb to Corypheus, Dread Wolf."  
Her eyes were her own blue, and the anchor still glowed inside her hand.  
"I was too weak to unlock it after my slumber.", he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "I never meant this to happen to you. I'm so sorry, vhenan."  
He rested his forehead against hers, breathing the familiar scent of elfroot and rashvine.  
"I am sorry as well.", she said quietly, cupping his face in her hands. "But the People need us."  
Fen'Harel lifted up his gaze, and a shadow moved across his face.  
"I have it.", she assured him, and placed his orb in his hands. "Corypheus almost broke it, but I was able to save it with mine."  
He ran his fingers over the foci, a look of sad contentment on his face.  
"I should have been one to pay the price."  
"No, Solas.", she said quietly. "We agreed to respect the duty the other had to carry. This was meant to be mine, always. I just didn't know it."  
"Neither did I.", he said, and he pressed his hand against Eluvian. It rippled again, and he drew a deep breath.  
"Are you ready, Mythal?"  
"For you, not Mythal. Ellana.", she corrected, taking her orb. "There was still enough of your power left in the anchor for me to cling to when she took me. She was not.. unkind."  
She took his free hand in hers and stepped through Eluvian. His mind was a whirlwind, trying to adjust to drop of water he had been offered just when he was sure to die from thirst. The only coherent thought Fen'Harel managed was that Elgar'nan was going to throw a fit when he found out.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you have enjoyed the story. I'm considering writing a sequel about elven Creators and the major culture shock they would experience coming back. Romancewise, there are major issues to solve between Solas and Lavellan. I have a vague headcanon of Zevran establishing a hippy "free love" cult in the name of Mythal, and Elgar'nan kidnapping Orlesian confectioner because Fen'Harel was right; frilly cakes are only good thing in this Age and the man should be honored to serve the Eldest of the Sun. Gods should have cakes even if they are on the run in the middle of a forest. Abelas is acerbic about Fen'Harel and becomes more stoic each passing day. And Loghain has really had enough of mages appearing in his bedroom in the middle of the night to ask if he wanted to participate in ancient sex magic ritual.
> 
> I keep having these cracky ideas of Fen'Harel, Ellana/Mythal and Elgar'nan wandering around Thedas and saving the world, one Creator at the time. The team song would be, of course, "Judas" by Lady Gaga. I haven't worked out which one of them is Judas. Probably they don't know either.
> 
> These things are still.. things. Thoughts instead of a plot. I would therefore appreciate hearing any thoughts you have about this finished story; what did you like, what would you have liked to see. I tend to take an idea and run with it, (and usually twist it to my own purposes like I did with game canon here), so all suggestions are welcome.
> 
> And if you wish to catch the next part, bookmark the series. It will be at least two weeks, since I have to finish my other series first. Can't leave Darcy and Victor hanging forever.


	26. A note for readers

Just a quick note for those who subscribed to Bog Unicorn: part two, Wrath of Heaven, is up.


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